Secret
by Clio S.S
Summary: Yuri knew it was one of those crucial moments Lilia had once spoken of. Moment that his old self died to make way for the new one. Moment that he was reborn as a new person. It happened. It happened outside the ice, in the changing room, after the training, when Otabek incidentally brushed his elbow against Yuri's naked back.
1. Chapter 1

Yuri knew it was one of those crucial moments Lilia had once spoken of. Moment that his old self died to make way for the new one. Moment that he was reborn as a new person. Of course, he would realise it much later; that very instant, he was but a bundle of emotions and physical sensations that he frantically tried to figure out and failed miserably. Whenever he recollected it, he would still feel like laughing and crying, and being amazed it had really happened. And not on the ice where he could indeed be reborn as many times as he wished. No, it happened outside the ice, in the changing room, after the training, when Otabek incidentally brushed his elbow against Yuri's naked back.

And if it was not Yuri who changed, then it happened to the whole world.

Otabek's elbow brushed against Yuri's back, making Yuri involuntarily shiver and moan. The hair all over his body stood on their ends, he felt hot and dizzy, and weak in his legs. He was familiar with this state, but so far he would experience it in quite different circumstances and another company, and thus he couldn't grasp why feel it _now_. There was no stimulus... right?

Of course, Otabek reacted at once; he would hardly ever miss such things. "Something's wrong? Are you in pain? Sprained something?"

Yuri shook his head, urging his brain to work. "No," he replied automatically and truthfully. "I'm fine."

Otabek kept staring at him intently, and Yuri suddenly couldn't withstand his gaze. How unusual.

"I thought I hurt you when I bumped at you a moment ago."

"You _rubbed_ against me," Yuri corrected and had no idea why.

"And that's why you cried?"

Yuri wanted to confirm, but something stopped him. He looked at Otabek again and frowned, and then realised it was the first time he wouldn't tell Otabek the truth... and even worse. It shocked him nearly as much as the previous thing. He turned back and started to put his t-shirt on. "I felt like... a cat moved his tail on my back and... and I remembered I have to go to the vet with Potya tomorrow," he said, trying to sound natural. "So I'm going to be late. I'd completely forgot..."

"Is it anything serious?"

Yuri shook his head, packing his bag. "No, just a control. You know, he had that surgery some time ago... I just want to make sure everything is all right. I hope it won't take long..."

"It's just one training session," Otabek replied and resumed putting his clothes on.

"I know, but this new routine wouldn't leave me," Yuri replied honestly.

"Right, the same thing each and every year," now there was laughter in Otabek's voice. "You want to master it as soon as possible, and then practise until you can do it perfectly."

Yuri dared to glance at him. "I'd say I've already mastered it..." he muttered. "But you're right about doing it perfectly."

Otabek only nodded, zipping his sweatshirt. "Are we having lunch?" he asked.

"Sorry, I promised Lilia I'd be early today," Yuri replied, raising one hand. "We still work on the free, you know..."

"It's fine," Otabek wouldn't make scenes.

"Then, see you tomorrow. I've to go," Yuri said, pulling his hood down and grabbing his bag. "I'll try not to be very late."

"See you."

Yuri nearly ran to the metro station, and only when he sat in the train, he would let himself think again. Until now, he'd focused only on getting far from Otabek... and this one thing was enough to throw him off balance. To tell the truth, everything that had happened in the last fifteen minutes - just that? - made him completely confused. It was as if the reality around him had become totally distorted, and suddenly he couldn't tell up from down. He only knew that - apart from million other things - he felt anxious, thrilled and guilty.

He'd lied to Otabek for the very first time in his life, and he still couldn't understand why.

Well, it was obvious he couldn't say the truth - but what was truth, anyway? What had happened, just a moment ago in the changing room after the training, that he couldn't wave it aside? That he'd had to lie to Otabek, with whom he'd always been honest? Why couldn't he answer spontaneously, just like he'd used to, just like he'd wanted?

Maybe because spontaneity might have had unwanted consequences. For now, he didn't even realise what kind of consequences they might be; he only knew he wasn't ready for them - and that was why he'd chosen another way, even at the price of this guilty feeling. Even at the price of this sad anxiety coming from the fact he'd probably taken the first step on the road to growing up. Spontaneity belonged to childhood that he'd so long wanted to leave behind - and now, when it was apparently happening, he suddenly wished he could take a step back. Some part of him knew it was no longer possible.

He pressed his burning forehead against the window pane and closed his eyes. He'd lied to Otabek and now had to understand - it was almost his _duty_ \- what was the cause. He realised there was no good reason, only that fear, uncertainty and instinctive urge to run. To run from what had suddenly appeared between the two of them and for ever - or, at least, for that one moment - changed their relation. He had to think it over and find out whether there was any restore point, when their friendship was still strong, simple and obvious... whether it was still possible to return to that point and delete what had happened today. It was his task to resolve... even though he really felt like kicking everything, yelling and swearing, or drinking into oblivion and slept until tomorrow. Yet, he knew well it wouldn't change his situation, only slightly postpone the problem.

Otabek had touched him. Incidentally, with no intention, with no context. And that one touch had thrown Yuri completely off balance. Why now? Why Otabek? They'd been friends for so long, and never before the physical contact had been any problem. They would hang upon each other when taking million of selfies or doing anything else silly. They would rest against each other when watching movies or browsing the photos. During motorcycle rides, Yuri would always hold on to Otabek, sitting behind his back. Now the very thought made him feel even hotter. Bitterly, he thought he didn't want to grow up.

It was May. Two months ago Yuri had turned 18. He'd been friends with Otabek for two years and a half - although it seemed to him they'd known each other for ages - and it was friendship Yuri hadn't regretted for a moment. First, Otabek was the coolest of all figure skaters he'd known. Second, he was someone to count on in every situation, and Yuri knew it was what really mattered. Before they'd got to know each other, he hadn't needed such relationship, such friendship - no, he hadn't even thought he would ever need. Yet, Otabek had very soon turned someone indispensable, someone essential for Yuri to live.

After Yuri's first season in senior division, Otabek had moved to Sankt-Petersburg, and since then they'd been more or less inseparable. Yuri had never said aloud how much he appreciated Otabek's presence. Otabek was his role model, support and balance. He was a great companion, wise adviser and brilliant, though reluctant, converser. He probably wasn't aware of it, but he helped Yuri to be a better person, sparking more positive emotions in him that he'd felt before. Yuri would be a prize idiot if he didn't want to stay with Otabek.

Yet, today he had run away from him and now wondered whether he would still be able to come back one day. The very thought hurt like hell.

When Otabek had touched him, Yuri felt as if a star had exploded somewhere in his mind. He'd wanted to move away and, at the same time, he'd wanted that Otabek touched him again. He'd cried out of fear, but also pleasure. He'd wished to flee, but he'd also felt like flinging his arms around Otabek and never let go. It was something new, unexpected, shocking and delightful.

And absolutely unacceptable between the two of them.

Now, would the world still be normal, and their friendship just as it'd been before?

He'd lied to Otabek that he'd felt like a cat brushed against his back. Well, Otabek knew well how much Yuri loved cats... But in this case, wouldn't he interpret Yuri's reaction in an unwanted way? If Yuri reacted to his touch like cat... But it was the first thing that'd occurred to him, and then, going with the punch, he'd made up that lie about the vet. The third one, about meeting with Lilia, was actually a half-truth, but knowing that didn't help his remorse.

Maybe to balance it - to indulge himself, just a bit - Yuri asked himself what would have happened if he'd told Otabek the truth. The hot wave hit his face and then engulfed all his body. He had to suppress another moan... although, at the same time, he realised he was presenting only his own point of view, while there were many different scenarios actually. Hopelessly, he returned to his previous - most important - thought: nothing of this kind could happen between them.

Yuri wouldn't risk their friendship for any selfish desire of his own. Whatever they did with Otabek, they did it together and enjoyed it together. Sure, it was Yuri who would offer and suggest, but Otabek would rarely object and hardly ever refuse. He'd borne with Yuri for two years and a half - he couldn't do it only on principle, right? Still, so far Yuri's all offers and suggestions had fallen in the well-known spectrum of the male friendship, while what had arisen between them today - even if only in Yuri's mind and body - certainly didn't.

Yuri pulled the hood lower over his eyes and sank in his seat even more, thinking he'd never felt so miserable before... and simultaneously having a sensation he'd never been in such a euphoria.

Maybe he'd imagined that? Maybe... maybe he simply had sensitive back? Hadn't he reacted the same way with those chicks he'd happened to sleep with? Actually, he couldn't remember; he'd been too drunk... and even if it was the case, it wouldn't change anything in his situation. Still, maybe it was just a physiological reaction that he shouldn't be bothered about? He played with this thought for a moment before discarding it with resignation. He was too much distressed for it to result from the simple physiological reaction. Not when his mind kept offering those vision of what he wished Otabek do to him... how he wanted Otabek to touch him more...

He groaned again and cursed under his breath. The fact were facts, and it was no use to deny them. Otabek Altin had just aroused him sexually, and without any conscious intention, on top of that. The least important thing was that Yuri was aroused by a man. When for the two years and a half you'd associated with the happiest male couple under the sun, you would automatically develop the opinion that there were worse things than homosexuality, and in the right circumstances it might even be the best thing. Then, there was no point in crying that it was Otabek in question; taking into account his person, one could decide it was the only reasonable choice. In different condition, Yuri would undoubtedly choose Otabek from the group of candidates and wouldn't think twice of it. In Yuri's eyes, Otabek was a walking perfection, and actually it was strange he didn't have a crowd of admirers stalking him every place and hour.

If Otabek hadn't been his best friend, Yuri would clearly see him as material for a partner, even if just an hour ago it would never occur to him to think about another man in such a category. But... if Otabek hadn't been his best friend, would Yuri have realised his worth? Weren't his feelings originating _exactly_ from the fact he knew Otabek and Otabek knew him? That they trusted and could always count on each other? That they _were_ best friends? He cursed in despair. Could there be any worse option?

For a moment, he would just sit, his eyes closed and his hands in the pockets, and give in the feeling of hopelessness. The feeling of fear, he could still keep at bay - that fear of losing something that was so important to him. No, he couldn't let it happen. He opened his eyes and looked somewhere in the future, focusing on acting.

He had to cope with that. Alone. It... it would pass, he had to believe so. Everything was possible for Yuri Plisetsky. He was known for strong self-discipline about skating; he could achieve it off the ice, too. Otabek couldn't realise, this one was obvious. There was no other option if their friendship were to survive, and keeping Otabek as his friend was Yuri's priority. He would give his best, would apply himself to hiding everything. He would even - although it made his chest hurt terribly - cut down his meetings with Otabek. He would give up their training sessions and move to Yakov's group... It was only temporary, he told himself. It was only until everything calmed down, was back at normal, until everything was like before. He felt relieved upon deciding that. He felt he was in control again and knew what to do. He took a deep breath and told himself it was the right thing to do.

But - his calm didn't last long - wouldn't Otabek find it strange if Yuri suddenly change his training plan? He would surely demand some explanation... and, really, he deserved it like any human being. Like any friend. Yuri knew he wouldn't be able to lie to Otabek again. Well... he knew he would have to do it - and despised himself for it - but he promised himself it would be his last resort. Maybe... maybe he could just reduce his sessions with Otabek and increase his sessions with Yakov? Yes, that was more sensible. It was a good thing they were still working on his free programme; Yuri would ask Lilia to make it even more difficult. It would prove en excuse to train more with Yakov and Lilia, and it wouldn't be a lie. Manipulation, yes, but not a lie, and knowing that eased his remorse just a bit.

Some other part of him would be ridiculously happy about still training with Otabek.

He took another deep breath, pleased with the solution that might help him to survive this crisis. Yes, crisis, it was a good word. A passing phase that required some effort of him, but would definitely come to an end. He would manage. He'd always managed, and by himself... Not that he could tell anyone about it, could he? Well, there were quite a few people he could confide in: Lilia, who was like his mother; Katsudon, who probably had experienced something similar; maybe even Mila, who would always listen to his bitch as he would listen to her confession, even though they wouldn't stop taunt each other. He had no doubts that, had he spoken with any of them, they would relate to his problems calmly, even with sympathy, and wouldn't blame him for anything; maybe they would try to help him, advise him, but...

He didn't want to. It was his business, and only his... His own secret - too special to reveal it to others. Too sweet to share. Otabek was the only person he would tell - but that one was out of question.

It hurt. Until now, he and Otabek had had no secrets. Until now, they would support one another in trouble. Well, to tell the truth, it was Otabek who'd always supported Yuri, offered solutions, helped in so many ways... Yuri swore again. Why did it happen to him? He cursed his fate. Recently, he'd hardly ever reminisced his childhood, that - despite his grandpa's presence - would often weigh on him... at least those times he'd let himself think of it. But in last two years and a half... there'd been much more times he would look in the future, not back. He'd already forgot that sensation: that he's the unhappiest person in the world... and now he remembered it, as if it had lurked behind his back all that time, out of the corner of his eye, always ready to jump and crush him.

He shook his head. No, he wouldn't let it break him. He wouldn't give up. Even if he had to face it alone, he would take the fight - and he would believe in his victory. He planned to spend his whole life with Otabek - he wouldn't let such a trifle thing separate them at such an early stage. He was... He was Ice Tiger of Russia, and he wouldn't be defeated, not by such stupid physical sensations anyway.

He wiped his eyes and didn't spare more than those two tears. He quickly forgot all those sentiments upon realising the train reached the final station, while he should have get off some times ago. "FUCK!" he yelled and started to his feet, then kicked the opposite seat, never caring about the people in the car. "FUCK IT ALL!"

He clenched his fists... and then slowly relaxed them. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before shaking his head. He realised that for some reason he felt better. He sat down again and waited for the train to depart, considering his next move. After the lunch, he would go to the gym, and then... He would spend the evening with Lilia. He decided he could already start thinking of the elements to that routine that should help him to keep the secret...

His lips twitched in the lightest shade of a smile when he realised he'd just invented his theme for the next season, and it pleased him. Negative should be turn into positive, right? 'Secret' sounded like a great flirtation with the audience and all skating world... And maybe even - he took a deep breath, a bittersweet feeling in his chest - maybe even with Otabek himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Lilia had nothing against the theme, as he suggested it to her during the evening tea. "What secret?" she only asked, although the tone of her voice clearly indicated she knew Yuri wouldn't tell her.

"A secret is a secret," he answered with a shrug, but then something urged him to add, "But it's a good secret," and saying it, he realised it really was so.

Lilia stared at him intently for a longer while. Then, in a voice that only someone very sensitive could hear curiosity in, she asked, "Like... first love?"

Never before Yuri had been so proud of himself as he was now, returning her gaze without as much as blinking. "You're free to imagine whatever you want," he replied in the most boring voice he managed to muster and then leaned over the list of the elements for his new routine.

"I don't want to imagine. I'd rather... know. In order to create you the best programme," she explained.

He glanced at her from behind the fringe; he'd long since learned to bear her gaze. "I think... it's okay to have some love there," he said reluctantly, hoping that the tone of his voice would be mistaken for his disgust with the topic itself. "But I'm sure the choreography will make a bigger impact if you don't know too much. It's a _secret_ ," he reminded her. "Let me deal with the execution myself," he added.

She nodded slowly, sipping her tea. "Makes sense," she agreed with him, which happened more and more often as he grew older. She put the cup down on the saucer. "Fine, I'll make you such a programme that the audience will rack their brains, trying to find out your secret," she declared, and he believed her. "Do not dare to ruin it with a lousy interpretation," she warned.

"Have I ever wasted your work?" he asked, although he knew the answer.

Lilia spent another moment scrutinising him, and then a slight smile stretched her lips. "One more question, though. Would you skate it in a male or female convention?"

Now Yuri did blush. "Male!" he snapped at her. He was one hundred percent sure he would never skate as a girl again, like he had done in his first two seasons in adult division.

Lilia nodded. "I hope she is worth it," she said, and something flashed menacingly in her eyes.

Yuri blinked... and then realised Lilia had probably taken the bait. Or maybe she only pretended to, he couldn't put it past her.. Since the day they had met, they would always try to trick one another. In any case, he would be damned if he gave himself away before Lilia...! And just as he thought it, he realised that if he managed to trick _her_ , then he would probably manage to trick everyone else.

He decided to strike the iron while hot. "I'm going to have more sessions with the group from now on," he said casually. Let Lilia wonder which girl training under Yakov's guidance had turned his head... even though he found such a vision pretty revolting. "I must finally learn to cleanly land that quad Lutz... Actually, I must learn to land it in the first place," he added mockingly; well, that was true. "How much time do you need?"

She kept staring at him with that intent gaze of her while drinking tea. She didn't rush her answer, and he patiently waited. He realised it was only here that he managed to calm down after that unrest of a few last hours. It made sense; skating was like his other skin. It was something so close that it was almost himself. It covered him like a blanket, sometimes even gave him a shape. It made him feel safe. As long as he had his skates... as long as he could concentrate on skating, he would manage. He would copy with absolutely everything, he couldn't doubt it.

"I'm positive I'll be able to present the majority of the routine, if not all of it, on Sunday," Lilia's voice broke his reverie.

He focused his eyes on her and then nodded with appreciation. She really was the best. He was perfectly sure she would create him a routine that would enchant not only the audience, but him too, in the first place. He never ceased being amazed by her talent, by her skills, by her ability to see dance on some other plane than most people did, which enabled her to create masterpiece, one after another.

"In that case, I'll be mostly in Yakov's place," he said and rose from the couch.

"Yuri...?"

He turned around. Lilia was staring at him, and there was some hesitation in her eyes now - so unlike her.

"What?"

"If you need some advice... or just want to talk about it, I'll listen to you. I may not look it, but once I was in love, too," she said with some dignity.

Yuri felt his face turn red. "Never!" he cried and head for the door.

"Yes, yes... But in case you need, you know where to find me," she added, clearly ignoring his agitation.

He managed not to slam the door, but his calm was gone. Honestly, Lilia couldn't imagine he would talk with her about _that?_ Never, it was totally out of question...! He would be wrong in his head if he wanted to confide in _her_. She was the last person he could turn to...!

Back in his room, he flung himself on the bed and lay down for a while, his face in the pillow, trying to regain his composure. Impossible. He rolled over on his back and tousled his hair, suppressing the urge to shout. It took him a moment to realise it was not Lilia's offer that annoyed him the most - actually, that he even appreciated - but her commentary to the whole situation.

 _'Once I was in love, too.'_

He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, before biting his lips. His heart was racing like mad, and suddenly he felt bad. Until now, he'd tried not to think about it - he'd tried to keep away that thought, that possibility, for it was the very worst option - but now that Lilia had said it, he could no longer ignore it.

Was he _in love_ with Otabek?

He covered his face with both hands and then shoved his fists into his eye-sockets. Suddenly, he wished the whole world vanished... the world that was this very moment collapsing right onto his head. Absurdly, he thought that if it was only about sex, all that would be much easier. If it was only about Otabek arousing him, he would certainly cope with it. If it was only about the physiological reaction, he would hope that it simply went away; he'd only had to clench his teeth and wait.

But if there was more to it... then it really called into question their whole friendship, and Yuri felt very cold upon the thought. If he was certain of anything - well, except his desire to win everything one might win in the figure skating - it was that he couldn't imagine living his life without Otabek. He and Otabek were one, and Yuri had thought - probably foolishly - that they would always be. After all, they were best friends and had a hell of fun together, every day. The idea it could end - for any reason - wouldn't even occur to him.

But if it was... _love_ in question, then Yuri was strangely convinced that it was too serious matter to just wait it out. His previous determination vanished, and he was no longer sure he would cope with the situation, which made him feel even worse. Maybe... maybe he really should ask someone? Other people must have had more experience with such things. Maybe they could tell him _what_ was being in love? Ignoring the thought how absurd all that was - Yuri Plisetsky asking around, oh, they wouldn't leave him be - he took his phone and browsed through his contacts.

Mila had a new boyfriend every two week, on average. And she cried over every parting like it was her only love in question. Yuri doubted she was the best source of knowledge. Objectively speaking, it seemed to him that what Mila considered love was actually something else... above all her desire to have a boyfriend. Of course, he would never tell her that; he didn't feel like bringing some permanent bodily damage upon himself.

Katsudon must have known all about love; after all, he'd been bearing with someone like Victor Nikiforov for a few years already and still looked like the world greatest treasure had been bestowed upon him. But he'd once, drunken, confessed to Yuri that he hadn't figured out his feelings, even having spent months with Victor and even unconsciously proposing to him. He hadn't noticed he was in love? Could anyone be such a loser?

Otabek...

He threw the phone aside and put the pillow onto his face, feeling like the most wretched person in the world. It wasn't nice and annoyed him more than anything. He didn't like this state. Yuri Plisetsky wasn't someone who used to plunge into self-pity and depression. No, he was someone who always searched for a solution, a way out of dire straits. Someone who fought and won. He was a soldier, like Otabek had once said...

Fuck.

He rolled over to his side. He couldn't think of anything else; his all thought revolved around Otabek. Was it love? He clenched his teeth... The only person he'd loved so far was Grandpa. Sure, being in love was something else... but he attempted to understand his feelings, so he tried to compare them. Grandpa meant mutual devotion, support and readiness to help. Trust, feeling he could always count on and never be let down. Security. Above all, so much warmth and joy to be together. Lots of happiness. Only positive things, even if they didn't always agree or had different opinions. Differences simply made them different people, not divided them. Even though they were different people, they felt great together. When Yuri was with Grandpa, he felt it was his place. He was being accepted, he was a part of, he belonged to.

Fine, but Grandpa was his family. How it was with Otabek, then... He felt hot on his face, and his heart started to pound in his chest again. He pulled his arms and legs to his chest and tried to ignore those physical sensations. Potya jumped onto the bed and curled himself behind his back. Yuri sensed the cat's warmth and even those slight quivers of purring. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Presence of the cat helped a bit, but his heart kept beating like mad. Otabek... He felt good with Otabek, too. He felt safe, too. He felt sure, too. He could always count on him, and he could always expect his support. He trusted. He had fun. He was happy. And he wanted it to be so for the rest of his life.

He groaned. He could see _no_ difference. Otabek was as important to him as Grandpa... and he would stay crushed under the weight of that realisation, before urging his mind to operate. How it was with other people? Did he feel the same about them? He would cogitate on it, before reaching the conclusion he didn't. Mila was a good friend. Those girls he'd once slept with... No, he shouldn't even consider them. Lilia... He hesitated. Lilia was like a mother - demanding, but wise and fair mother. He was attached to her and trusted her, but it wasn't the relationship that made all borders and barriers disappear. He wasn't Lilia's part the way he was Grandpa's and Otabek's.

He took his phone again and, feeling like a prized fool, started to google the symptoms of being in love. Finally, red as a beetroot, he threw the phone away and once more covered his face with the pillow.

Why did it happen to him? he asked himself for the hundredth time this day. And why today? He had no answer, and he knew he wouldn't have. After another fifteen minutes of unproductive self-pity, he forced himself to return to the starting point. What should he do about it? Giving in to this... to those emotions that turned his brain - no, his very personality - into boiled noodles was not an option. As far as he was concerned, he knew he would be able to wear a mask, and outside this room no-one would figure him out.

No-one... Was it really so? He could deceive anyone, even Lilia, but would he be able to keep this poker face with Otabek? After all, today he'd had to run away from him. Well, but today, he told himself right away, today he'd been surprised. It was just an instinctive action, he couldn't have planned it, he couldn't have prepared himself. While tomorrow...

He felt dizzy again. He'd gladly pull the blanket over his head and stay under it for at least one week, even though it would be the greatest cowardice in the world. At the same time... The thought he would see Otabek _tomorrow_ filled his chest with some sweet warmth. It no longer mattered if he could deceive Otabek... Actually, he felt some delight at the possibility of Otabek noticing... understanding... He trembled.

And even though it was absolutely unacceptable, his mind went in the direction it couldn't be turned back. The training session tomorrow... The two of them in the same rink... Practising not alone, but together... He could perfectly well visualise Otabek stretching his hand to him and himself taking it... and since that moment the ice belonged only to them. He'd always - nine times out of ten - regarded Katsudon and Victor's 'pair skating' with complete disgust, but now he thought that maybe it wasn't that bad... Now he felt that if he had a possibility to skate together with Otabek, it would be like a dream becoming true.

Although he normally didn't spare them any thought, he realised now he remembered all those times Katsudon and Victor had performed in exhibitions. He remembered how they'd moved, how they'd stared at each other, how they'd touched one another... He moaned. He knew he should stop, but he just couldn't. If Otabek stared at him like that... with those intent eyes that wouldn't miss a thing... If he had stared like that, as if there was nothing else in the world but Yuri... then the ice beneath them would probably melt down. And if Otabek touched his face, in a feeling gesture, but so tender... Or if he pulled him together, just for a moment, only to release him and move on, but they would still hold hands... Then, undoubtedly, it would be Yuri to melt down.

He was fully aware it was only his own illusions, but he couldn't contain himself. He started to imagine Otabek's face, so close, closer than ever. Dark eyes, always focused and never revealing emotions. Broad forehead and straight eyebrows, often frowned with cogitation, but never with dislike. Slightly outlined cheekbones and a strong jaw with a firm chin. Lightly tip-tilted nose that fitted him perfectly. Lips - so wonderfully shaped and indicating determination. It was a very manly face, and very beautiful, in a way... at least in Yuri's current state. He wished he could run his finger over those eyebrows and those cheeks, over that nose and those lips... and Otabek would never take his eyes off him...

He bit his lips and pressed his eyelids shut. He could barely remember where he was, for it seemed he was in another dimension that belonged only to the two of them. He wouldn't be able to stop this vision even if his life depended on it.

So when he'd already get to know Otabek's face like he hadn't known until now, his hands would move down, on the neck and collarbones, on shoulders and arms... Otabek had a splendid body, with great strength in it. Although Yuri was taller, he was under the impression Otabek could crush him without trouble. Now he imagined those strong arms encircling him, holding him in an embrace he would never be able to get out of. He imagined how Otabek's muscles moved under the skin of his arms, chest and legs... For last two years and a half, he'd had all too much occasions to stare at Otabek's figure - both on and off ice - and it now seemed perfect to him. No, Otabek had nothing to be ashamed of; he was ideally proportional, and nature couldn't really have been more generous. If he had a chance, Yuri would like to explore every fragment and make it his. He would like to touch everything, taste everything, feel everything... He would like to merge into one with Otabek.

He was shivering all over and felt terribly hot. His breath was breaking, and his heart was racing as if it was his most difficult skating programme ever. His head was humming with the rush of blood. He was so aroused it hurt. His hands, as if they had life on their own, slipped into his pants to put out that fire that burned in him up to the very ends of his nerves. He stroke himself, imagining someone else's hands providing him with that pleasure - and much more. He clenched his teeth to contain his scream in ecstasy, or its poor substitute, that came all to soon. He curled on the bed, panting... and knowing it wouldn't help him for long, but at least now. Potya was still purring behind his back, but it was not his presence Yuri yearned...

He would lay for a longer while with his eyes closed, too exhausted to feel anything. The realisation he'd first become aroused by and then come with a thought of another man wasn't as mortifying as it might be. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that man was none other than Otabek Altin.


	3. Chapter 3

Somehow, Yuri survived the night - in the chaos of thoughts and emotions - although in the morning his main feeling was the disgust with himself. He could accept anything but not the effect the current state had on his intellect... on his personality that seemed completely different now. Would anyone be happy with such mood, opinion and decision swings? Yuri Plisetsky had always been someone to make decisions and stick to them, someone to choose one option and follow it. However, the current situation turned him - an adult man, at least officially - into a shaking jelly that, alternately, wished that the morning never came, and desired to run to the rink and see Otabek again as soon as possible.

It was very degrading indeed.

As for the main problem, he was no wiser than before... but he managed to convince himself that what he felt in regard to Otabek was the most simple sexual desire. Stupid as it sounded, it was nonetheless the fact - or, at least, the safest option. He had spent the last evening and part of the night satisfying that desire, so he needed no further proof. Then again, he could always control his body, and he would manage this time, too. If only that physical arousal wasn't accompanied by other sensations, like sudden heart-racing or blushing whenever he thought of Otabek, there would be no problem at all... But no, it was only about sex and nothing more. After all, it was perfectly normal - and healthy - for an eighteen years old guy to think about sex. As for thinking about sex with his best friend... well, he was sure it could also be explained somehow, especially that Otabek - just as he'd already acknowledged - was a very attractive man.

Yuri was under the impression there was something very off with such reasoning, but he stubbornly drove that realisation into his subconsciousness. He wasn't in love. Internet claimed that being in love was the most pleasant and the happiest state one could experience, while he undoubtedly felt no pleasure nor happiness. At least not for most of the time.

Before leaving, he took a cold shower, although he was aware it wouldn't help much. When he arrived in the rink - Otabek wasn't there yet - he took another one. Last night, he'd decided he wouldn't think of _those things_ outside home. He just wouldn't. And damn him if he didn't adhere to it. Cold showers he'd taken a few times since yesterday, reminded him of that absurd training Victor had forced him into, three years ago in Japan... and now there was something good about this memory. For the first time, he thought that meditation could be of some help. Well, he didn't intend to do it now, but concentrating on one matter and detaching himself from everything else could really be of use. He had no choice if he wanted to solve this problem. It was all about Otabek... about his and Otabek's friendship, and he would do anything to save it.

Just when he changed into his training clothes, Otabek came in - ten to nine, as always. Seeing him in the door, Yuri had to suppress a moan and a sudden urge to run away or turn around and look at anything else. He felt dizzy and hot again... but he knew he had to control himself. He mustn't give himself away... and Otabek was the most perceptive person he knew... except Lilia, perhaps. 'Think, Plisetsky, think!' he told himself. 'How to greet him in the most casual way?'

"You're on time?" Otabek asked in a surprised voice. "How's the cat?"

Yuri blinked. God, what cat? The next second he remembered his excuse... his lie from yesterday. Right, he'd said he would be late today... "I got the date wrong," he replied, trying to sound like usual. He did pretty well, despite his dry mouth.

Otabek only raised his brow, putting his bag on the bench, then nodded and started to change. Yuri realised he couldn't tear his eyes off him, but quickly forced himself to look away. Before Otabek's arrival, he'd unscrewed one bulb, so the changing room was dimmer than normally; he hoped it would conceal his emotions from Otabek's observant gaze... emotions he wouldn't be able to hide, despite his best and earnest efforts. Now he realised that dimness could also hide Otabek from his gaze... but, at the same time, it stirred his imagination, which was even worse.

He turned away to take care of his hair, determined not to look at Otabek. His hands trembled only slightly when he secured his hair. He took a deep breath, clenching and relaxing his fists. _Don't think about that, don't thing about that..._ Not for the next three hours. Ah, speaking of that...

He gulped and gave Otabek a furtive look. He had to say it now, even if he'd gladly leave it for later... or even write in an sms. But he couldn't be such an asshole. "My training schedule is to be changed from now on," he spoke and sat down to put on his skates. "I have to limit our sessions... and it seems I'm going to be awfully busy for the next few weeks, too. I'm sorry," he added and realised he really was.

Otabek turned to him with his t-shirt half removed. Yuri forced himself not to stare at his belly, that he could see perfectly well despite the dimness, and looked up instead, in Otabek's eyes. No, fuck... It wasn't good either.

"Limit... To how often?" Otabek asked crisply.

Yuri gulped again. "Once per week," he said in a low voice and licked his lips.

He was aware the best option would be to have a full month break... but he was unable to completely give up on Otabek. Until now, they would meet three times per week - three morning sessions when they could practically reserve the rink, for there were no people coming here in the summer - so the difference would be considerable... and he wasn't happy about it, but knew it to be necessary nonetheless.

Otabek slowly nodded. "You're going to train more with Yakov?" he asked.

Yuri nodded, his eyes fixed on some invisible point behind Otabek's right ear. "Yeah. Lilia is putting together a hellishly difficult free programme... Well, I asked for it myself," he confessed. He felt better when he didn't need to lie all the time. "It'll have quite a few new elements I must... well, I must master."

"I see," Otabek replied after a moment, pulling his t-shirt over his head, and Yuri realised he'd been holding his breath when waiting for his response. "Once per week... Which day?" came the next question.

Yuri blinked and then resumed tying his skates. "Which day fits you best?" he asked helplessly.

"Everyday."

Yuri bit his lips and focused his eyes on the lace, his mind working frantically. To tell the truth, he hadn't given it a thought yet. Monday would be good - the best way to start a week... But if it were Friday, he would have a whole week to look forward to... Only that Friday of the next week was far too far, so...

"What about Monday?" he asked, his voice too much timid, so he cleared his throat and added louder, "Morning?"

"Fine," Otabek replied in that concise way of him.

Yuri felt relieved. The next Monday was in just a few days... It took him a moment - he was already tying his other skate - to start and wonder about this feeling. Limiting his trainings aimed at limiting his contacts with Otabek in order to regain his inner balance - why he was so happy, thinking of the next time they would meet, then? He didn't let himself to follow that thought, though.

"Thanks," he muttered, still staring down, although he could see Otabek out of the corner of his eye. "I'm sorry."

Otabek shook his head. "Don't be."

"I just brought it up, out of the blue. It's not fair to you..." Yuri felt compelled to add.

"Don't worry about it."

Now Yuri did look at Otabek; for some reason, he felt cold. 'Don't worry about it.' Saying that, Otabek had probably wanted to reassure him and nothing more, but... For some reason, it'd sounded like, 'It's all the same,' or 'It doesn't really matter,' and that thought was unpleasant. He would be upset if it were all the same to Otabek.

He shook his head. Was he going to analyse Otabek's every one word? Was he wrong in the head or what? He checked his bindings and sat up... only to see Otabek taking off his jeans and grabbing his sweatpants. He gulped, snatched his gloves and almost ran to the exit, hoping his blush wasn't visible.

"I'm off to the ice," he said firmly.

As he warmed up by the fence - driving away the wish that Otabek stayed in the changing room as long as possible... and that he came immediately - he came to the conclusion he hadn't done poorly. Probably. The first confrontation, even if it was only a few minutes, hadn't come out badly. Sure, he'd become pretty distracted, and it'd required some effort on his part to focus on the talk, but apart from that he'd acted just like always. He realised the routine helped. Arrive, change, tie your hair, put on your skates. Warm-up, skating... If he concentrated on these actions he'd know and done for so long - more than half of his life - then everything would be just fine.

However, when Otabek joined him, his determination was put to the proof. Tight training clothes rather revealed than concealed Otabek's anatomy, and Yuri caught himself staring at him. He turned around, annoyed. 'It's not the first time you see him,' he told himself. 'Why would it start affecting you now?' Well, that was the main problem here... Still, he remembered he shouldn't think of it. He. Shouldn't. Think. Of. It. He took a deep breath and started to practise his short programme.

It was difficult, at the beginning, but the longer he trained, the better he could focus. On one hand, skating absorbed his all attention; on the other hand, it was something as natural as breathing to him. It was something he loved and could do with his eyes closed, something he would do well even after a poorly slept night and despite psychical fatigue. Maybe coldness of the ice helped, too... Suffice it to say that he managed to survive the next three hours, retaining his dignity and even being satisfied with the training. Apparently, he was really a pro, he thought with a wry smile, pulling off to the fence.

Of course, something just _had_ to happen. When he was quenching his thirst by the board, his breath still quick after the workout, Otabek stopped by him - which was completely natural and would happen thousands of times. Yuri closed his eyes, forcing himself to remain calm. During the training, he'd managed to 'ignore' Otabek's presence, which had proved to be much easier he might have expected. They'd done so many sessions together before, that Otabek perfectly fitted his reality on this ice. Actually, Yuri thought that without Otabek in this rink he would feel... incomplete. Maybe even anxious.

Now, however, this very moment, the situation was different, much less... safe. Otabek was standing one meter from him, much too close. Yuri knew he would do best if he left the ice and went to the shower - again - but he just couldn't move. He would have to go past Otabek, and suddenly he felt he wasn't strong enough. There was no other option, only wait for Otabek to leave first...

Otabek, however, tilted his bottle upside down and said, "I drank everything."

And Yuri reacted the exact way he'd reacted many times before - unconsciously stretched his hand to offer his own bottle. Only when Otabek's fingers brushed against his own, he twitched and tore his hand away, letting go of the bottle, that fell then on the ice.

"Sorry," he muttered, his ears burning, and barely heard Otabek say the same.

He was dead sure of one thing: he couldn't look him in the eyes. For one dreadful moment, he just stood there, his heart pounding in his chest and his head empty, unable to move, even if some part of him knew he should do something, _anything_. Yet, seconds passed one by one - it seemed to him like the whole eternity - before finally Otabek stooped to pick up the bottle, while Yuri regained control over his body and darted to the exit. Some voice in his head kept telling him he'd chosen the worst option, but he was again - again! - overwhelmed by that irresistible instinct to flee. He was a coward and could do nothing about it.

Shower helped him to cool down a bit, but he couldn't stand there as long as he needed - it would be too suspicious and might make Otabek, who'd just taken the next cabin, peek in to check if everything was all right with him... He couldn't let it happen. He turned off the tap and took a deep breath, trying to calm down... Impossible, but he still tried. He had... he had to explain himself somehow. And, above all, he had to act normally, for if he continued to behave like a schoolgirl in lo... like a schoolgirl, Otabek would figure him out in no time. Act naturally, that was the key. First... First he would dry himself. Then he would return to the changing room. He would look straight ahead and not avert his eyes. And he wouldn't blush, damn him!

In a firm move, he grabbed the towel to dry his hair and the rest of his body, trying to think of Japanese waterfalls. He could make it, he could make it... He wouldn't reveal anything. He was Ice Tiger, and he really could control himself. He just mustn't think of Otabek in the next cabin, everything but that... Fuck... Waterfalls...!

He wrapped the towel around his hips and ran to the changing room to put his clothes on before Otabek returned. His hands trembled just a bit when he dressed. He felt like running away immediately... but he couldn't; he would be finished if he did so. He focused on combing his hair and tried to calm down his heart, tried to prepare himself for the next fifteen minutes. Otabek would come back. He would enter through that door and then dress himself. Then he would pack his bag. Yuri had seen it so many times before... had that image in his head. Normally, they would talk about the training, exchange remarks, then decide where to go eat. Today... today they would talk, too... but Yuri could forget eating, for his stomach was like a tight knot. It appeared he couldn't stay with Otabek too long; three hours was his limit - and it was three hours when each of them focused on their own activity.

He stared at his hands; their tremble stopped almost completely. He lifted the right one and rubbed its back, that Otabek had stroked just a moment ago. He thought he could still feel the tingling in it, and his heart sped up dangerously again. It was that very moment that Otabek chose to enter the room, and Yuri forced himself to look at him. Although the light was poor, he could still very well see the water drops on Otabek's skin, as well as those dripping from his hair. He didn't avert his eyes, still rubbing his hand. Otabek fixed his eyes on this movement before giving him a questioning look.

"In a triple Axel... I jumped a bit too close to the fence and hit my hand," Yuri said without thinking and then waved said hand. "It was a bit numb, but now it's gone already. Nothing serious."

"I didn't notice," Otabek responded, frowning.

Yuri shrugged and started to pack his things. "That aside, I'm satisfied. I think I start to grasp what this programme is about," he said casually.

"I remember you saying yesterday you've already mastered it...?"

Inwardly, Yuri cursed Otabek's good memory... although he felt strangely pleased that Otabek remembered his words. "Well, I admit it may have been slightly premature on my part... You saw that bloody step sequence in the middle, didn't you? To tell the truth, I don't really know how I should skate it. I think I first have to try every possible interpretation in order to decide. Of course, Lilia wouldn't tell me how she sees it..." he muttered in a complaining manner. "How about you?"

"Fine," Otabek replied shortly. "I'm slowly moving forward."

"Are you really going to have a quad Lutz in your short programme?" Yuri asked in a slight disbelief.

"Once I learn to execute it clearly. For now, it's pretty lousy. I manage to land no more than half of them."

"Well, I think it's just a matter of time," Yuri replied with conviction, glancing over his shoulder. "I wish I could say the same, " he added mockingly and then felt like smiling. "Forget the landing, I think I managed to have enough rotation maybe two or three times, no more..."

Otabek's eyes filled with warmth. "You'll do it sooner or later."

"I'd rather sooner," Yuri said and giggled.

They really didn't have any trouble talking about skating - and he probably shouldn't be as surprised as he was upon realising it. Training had come out nicely, even though he'd fretted about it beforehand. He recollected his thought from yesterday: as long as he had his skates, he would manage - and it was really so. He enjoyed that knowledge and comfort it gave. Then, however, he remembered the situation from the ice... Such situations could happen from now on, too, so he really needed to limit their meetings - at least for long enough that being close to Otabek stopped affecting him this way. He focused his eyes on the bag again and zipped it up. Even if he was tempted into forgetting such precautions, he just couldn't - if he wasn't prepared to forget about Otabek. There was one thing he was certain of as he was of his own name: if Otabek learned about his, say, quandaries, it would mean the definite end of their friendship.

"Are we going to eat?" he heard in the next moment.

"Sorry, I must go," he replied, although he wished nothing more than stay and spend one more hour with Otabek. After all, what might happen in the restaurant? asked some carefree voice in his mind. He answered it at once: pretty much. It was no point to take a risk.

Realisation that Yuri Plisetsky ceased being a man who took a risk, was unpleasant. He lowered his head and clenched his fists.

"Fine," Otabek said like he used to, and Yuri felt even worse.

He raised his eyes and looked with a sudden determination. He didn't intend to change completely. He didn't want to. He didn't want to grow up yet and always act wisely, forbidding himself any spontaneity.

"Next time," he said and then gulped. He had _a whole week_ to prepare himself. "We'll go to eat next time... On Monday."

Otabek stared at him for a while, before nodding. "All right," he replied, making Yuri extremely happy.

Yuri took the bag and turned with a smile. "Then, see you on Monday!" he called and ran to the metro station, feeling life was wonderful, after all.

He was in too good mood to reproach himself for such sentimental rubbish.


	4. Chapter 4

In some respect, that week was one of the most difficult in Yuri's life. So far, there had been a few 'the most difficult weeks' - some of them because of skating, some others not - but this one was definitely the worst. Yuri tried to cope with the situation and did everything to not be defeated. Alone. Sometimes, he felt like a winner; sometimes, like the most wretched man in the world. It was a week filled with laughter and tears, with hope and despair, with prayers and curses. It was a week stretched between ecstatic pleasure and deep dejection, between silent anticipation and violent vehemence. From time to time, he would think that he probably hit puberty a few years too late.

He spent his days with the Yakov's team, keenly practising his new short programme and attempting quad Lutz. He hardly talked with anyone and cared little about the glances others would cast at him. Yakov observed him, too, but his gaze would be rather that of approval than astonished admiration. Yuri was capable of focusing on training, and others must have been aware of it, but apparently even people who'd known him for long were surprised by that steel determination he would show these days. Even Mila ceased teasing him as he wouldn't respond to her taunts, although that might be just a coincidence; she was busy with her new love affair. Only later he would learn that Mila had quickly lost courage to tease him.

He knew he had to occupy himself with skating in order to retain some psychical balance. Skating demanded concentration, and if he wanted to benefit from the training, he mustn't bother himself with anything else. So he trained, trained and trained... Choreography. Jumps. Spins. Steps. In right proportions, not overdoing it, but still quite much. He was focused and committed. Whenever on ice, there was nothing else but skating. On ice, he was Yuri Plisetsky who dreamed of yet another gold medal. It was easier this way. It was always this way.

Off ice... well. He and Lilia kept working on his free skate - or, rather, she worked on it, occasionally asking him about the elements... and never asking about anything else. She would only penetrate him with her gaze, but he knew he hadn't revealed anything to her. Once, she inquired about Otabek, and he answered that Otabek was doing well and even better, and not a single muscle in his face twitched. He even mentioned that Otabek was focusing on quad Lutz and would undoubtedly be able to land it cleanly in the next season - something he could only dream of now. Speaking of Otabek and himself in the same sentence wasn't so difficult he'd expected; quite the contrary, it came very naturally... as did changing the subject.

Off ice... All his thought revolved around Otabek, but he told himself it was better like this. He'd actually convinced himself that, doing so, he would be able to 'work the problem out' faster. After all, his main goal was to stop reacting to Otabek Altin the way he did. To tell the truth, he wasn't sure if he succeeded... if there was _any_ progress, to begin with, for whenever he would return to his room in the evening, finally free from looks, voices and questions, then he would give in to his mad desire and sink into visions he would suppress during the day. No fatigue could weaken this fire burning in him at the memory of Otabek's dark eyes and deep voice, firm lips and beautiful body. He could only put out this fire with his own hands... and he did so, as much as it took... unable to resign on his wish... his dream that it was Otabek touching him, setting him ablaze and satisfying him.

He bitterly realised it was only a dream. And some dreams just couldn't be fulfilled, especially at the price of losing something more important.

He missed Otabek terribly. Forget those erotic visions he could do nothing about - or he actively filled his free time with - he missed his friend in his life. He missed their training sessions and meals. He missed their talks about skating and their meetings at the cafe. He missed their motorbike rides and having fun at the club. Only now that, of his own accord, he had limited their contacts to occasional text messages and one Monday training, he realised how much time they'd spent together before. How many times he would grab his phone to call and suggest that they meet... He would force himself to put it down. He had... He had to cope with his weakness in order to be able to enjoy Otabek's friendship again without restraint. There was no other option, so he had to clench his teeth and remain strong. He settled for peeking in Otabek's Instagram. A few dozens time per day.

The thought he would have to spend next few weeks - maybe even longer - like this almost made him scream. Sometimes, he would be absolutely sure he just couldn't do it...

His only joy was the knowledge that on Monday - in three days, in two days, tomorrow - he would see Otabek. They would train together, talk about skating and then go to eat, just like he'd promised. He would spent half a day with Otabek - and it filled him with such happiness that he laughed out laud and his face wore the same stupid expression that Katsudon's, whenever the Japanese saw Victor. But he forbade himself to think of the happiest couple in Sankt-Petersburg. He and Otabek weren't like those two. He and Otabek were... friends. And they would always be.

On Sunday, Lilia revealed - on paper - the majority of his free skate. It was a good thing they were going to line out it on ice later, anyway, for now he was far too distracted and could hardly understand anything. He only grasped that the programme was hard - and was glad with it... and he was glad about being glad about it. From time to time - very rarely, but he still nearly despised himself for it - he would feel that, confronted with his private life, skating was of no importance at all. Those moments, he would felt the urge to forget everything relating to the ice and focus his all energy on emotions, instead. He would smile wryly at the memory of Victor asking him long ago if he'd ever thought about love. He'd answered he hadn't... Now he thought about it all the time; Victor would undoubtedly say if was a very good thing...

No, come back, it wasn't love. It was just lust.

On Sunday night, he couldn't really sleep - he probably feared that something would happen preventing his and Otabek's meeting - but in the morning he felt very excited and full of energy, nonetheless. Training would start no sooner than 9 a.m., and time seemed to drag. He had the temptation to board the metro at 7 a.m. already, but there was no use since the rink would be closed now, and waiting outside would be totally lame. Somehow, he managed to survive - bath, Internet and visualising his free skate - and then finally appeared in the place he'd thought of for a whole week.

Otabek wasn't there, and he felt disappointed about it. Well, Otabek would always come ten to nine sharp, so there was no reason to expect him to be sooner today. Yuri changed and tied his hair, then put his skates on, trying not to glance at the clock. Ten to nine, and Otabek still wasn't there. Yuri started to feel anxious, but he told himself that Otabek would have informed him about his expected absence, one hundred percent. 'But if something happened on his way here...', his mind began to offer unpleasant visions.

Fortunately, Otabek appeared two minutes later (it was two minutes filled with the bleakest visions and increasing depression) and was just like always. However, Yuri didn't get to think any more than that, for the next moment the feeling of relief turned into something much more complex and intense. If he'd believed to be in constant tension so far, then he'd been greatly mistaken. Wave of emotions and feelings hit him and almost swept away, and it was utterly impossible to distinguish those sensations. Intoxicating joy and happiness he could see him again. Pride and delight that it was him. Above all, the need to hurl himself at him and become his whole world, both carnally and spiritually. The need to be reflected in his eyes and see his smile directed only at himself. The need to never again be separated, to always be next to him, to always be together.

'It's just lust,' he thought in despair, yet fully aware that his physical sensations are drowning in that flood of feeling that would undoubtedly blow him over if he wasn't sitting already.

It wasn't just lust. He could no longer run away from that realisation. He _was_ in love, fuck it all. In love with Otabek Altin, his best friend... No, with his _only_ real friend. The situation was completely hopeless... and all of that was so terribly unfair...!

He averted his eyes, although he only wished he could keep looking at him. No matter how painful it was, no matter what kind of consequences it might have - he didn't want to think of it, only look... for suddenly he feared that soon he wouldn't have even that. But he pulled himself together, even though it was more difficult than ever before. Regardless of their nature, Otabek _must not_ realise his feelings. And... and as long as he didn't realise, there was the chance that everything would have a happy end. Yes, he was sure of that.

He took a deep breath. Everything... everything would be fine, he told himself, although terrible fear kept twisting his insides. Everything would be fine, he repeated. There was no situation that Ice Tiger of Russia couldn't cope with. Everything. Would. Be. Fine.

"Everything's okay?" Otabek asked, and Yuri realised he hadn't even answered his greeting. He promised himself it was the last time he'd become so distracted today.

He nodded. "Yeah. I just lost myself in thought," he replied and was surprised he could actually speak. "Lilia showed me my new free programme last night, and I can't stop thinking of it," he said, although nothing could be more distant from the truth; he could barely remember that programme.

"It should be like that, I suppose," Otabek decided, zipping his bag open.

"I suppose, too," Yuri agreed and rose. "I'm off to ice," he said; he hoped it would help cool down those emotions raging inside him.

He might as well wish for a little star. He couldn't quite remember the last time he'd been so disturbed on ice. By no means was it a favourable condition for a skate training, but what else could he do? If he ran away, Otabek would have questions to him... Besides... he would have to wait _another week_ to see him again, and that thought filled him with a very unpleasant feeling in his chest. He tried to figure out what to do - after all, he could always discover the right answer if he only applied himself to it - but this time his mind was empty and devoid of any ideas.

As the time passed by, he grew more and more annoyed with himself for being unable to find a solution... and for having found himself in this situation, in the first place. Then, the more annoyed he felt, the worse his skating was. He probably set a new record of flubbed jumps in a single training session, he thought sarcastically, getting up after yet another failed triple Axel. It only proved that even Yuri Plisetsky, the greatest genius of Russian figure skating since Victor Nikiforov, couldn't focus on sport when something else was on his mind. Still, with stubbornness worthy of a better cause, he would continue his training, although his reason kept telling him his actions were completely pointless and he only laid himself open to an injury. He found some masochist pleasure in humiliating himself this way... maybe even felt the need to be punished for having got in such a trouble. He realised it wasn't a behaviour of an adult person, but he couldn't help it... didn't want to help it.

As far as he could see - from continuous glances - Otabek was practising quad Lutz... and was much more successful about it. Well, but he didn't have such a problem on his mind, absorbing all his attention, did he? All of the sudden, Yuri felt angry with Otabek for such imperceptiveness. He was certain that even Otabek Altin would find it difficult to focus on training if he knew that his best friend was... _was in love with him_. Yuri knew he was blushing, but it didn't stop him from following the thought. If... if he told him, just like that... how would Otabek react? He would stop the training, wouldn't he...? Even he, a man who never let emotions control his behaviour, would find it too difficult to keep jumping those quad Lutz like nothing happened... right? But he wasn't sure; it was Otabek in question, and his talent Yuri admired more than anyone else's. Still, he played with this thought... this temptation for a longer while... but he knew well he would never be able to say it aloud.

After three hours, his spirit was as sore as was his body. There was probably no part in him without bruises now... As for his mind, he was no longer sure what emotion prevailed in him, for they would change all the time - but probably anger with himself and general dejection. He still hadn't found the way out of this crisis - and felt scared at the thought there might be none at all... He dreamed of a hot bath, that might help him relax... But no, damn, they were going to eat together...

Would he be able to do it? Would he be able to remain calm and act normally? Well, at least he stopped feeling the urge to jump Otabek and... and... do all those things he'd been thinking of for the last week. But it was really a poor consolation. Otabek would certainly notice his bad mood and would inquire about its cause... Hmm, maybe Yuri could put it down to such a terrible training...? But Otabek must have realised that the training was so terrible _due_ to some cause... And there had been no secrets between the two of them so far. What should he do?

Yuri knew he didn't intend to miss that meal with Otabek, come hell or high water. It was not an option, not after he'd waited for it the whole week.

He took off to a toe loop with a sudden determination, rotated four times mid-air with a verve and landed with satisfaction... but lost his balance and fell, his left hip hitting the ice hard. This time he didn't manage to contain a cry of pain. In a moment, Otabek was by his side, stretching his hand. Yuri took it without thinking and got up, clenching his teeth and trying to suppress a moan. It was only then that he realised how close Otabek was - closer than ever today... this week... His heart sped up.

Otabek still held his hand. "You're okay?" he asked, and Yuri could barely hear his voice through the pounding in his ears. "I think you should call it a day. Come, I'll help you to the changing room. Lean against me if you want," he added and came even closer.

Yuri trembled, unable to tear his eyes off Otabek's face, some twenty centimetres from his own. Involuntarily, he licked his lips. He felt a blush creeping onto his face and realised, with some lucid part of his mind, that the situation was bad. Such behaviour attracted attention more than anything. 'Plisetsky, anything but that! These are not _your_ reactions...! You're not a shy middle school girl! Be yourself!'

And although he wished nothing more than lean against Otabek, he violently wrenched himself free and moved away. "What's your problem?! Fuck off!" he yelled with anger he didn't really feel.

Only when he'd said that he realised that with Otabek he hadn't ever used such language. He felt cold, and he no longer knew whether it was due to possible exposure... or something else... A heavy load weighed on his chest.

Otabek took his hand back and kept staring at him for a longer while - his face impossible to read, just like always - before finally nodding.

"Fine," he said, then turned back and returned to his previous place.

And Yuri felt like the most miserable man in the world. He bit his lips so that they didn't tremble and - even though it demanded his all strength - raised his head and pulled off to the exit. Pain in his heart was much worse than that of his hip. He walked to the changing room practically blindfold, for he couldn't see much through his tears. He wished he could take a shower - turn on hot water and spend half an hour in it - but he knew he couldn't stay here. He took off his skates, although his hands were shaking so much he nearly tangled the laces up. He clenched his teeth in order to not curse, for he feared that he would burst out crying instead. He put his sweat shirt on, packed his training clothes and left.

He took a taxi. Only his self-respect - or what was left of it - helped him to survive that fifteen minutes ride with dignity. (Only once in his life he'd cried in public and had promised himself it would never happen again). However, when he reached his room, all dams were let loose. He fell on the bed and sobbed the next half an hour. Potya sat down by his side, as if trying to comfort him, but his presence couldn't ease the pain. Never before had Yuri felt so wretched, and he feared it was but a start. He had no idea how to handle this nightmare his life had suddenly turn into.

'Help me, anybody,' he thought in the moment of the greatest degradation.

However, he knew well - and it didn't improve his mood at all - that he wouldn't accept anyone's help anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

Yuri quickly realised how naive on his part was that belief that the worst week of his life had been past him. The one following the Monday training was much worse. On Tuesday he didn't attend Yakov's morning session, excusing himself with his bruised hip. He even tried to convince himself it was the main reason for his indisposition, but his self-criticism wouldn't let him believe it. He just knew he wouldn't be able to focus on practising, and there was no point in repeating what he'd done the previous day, for he really risked the serious injury. Not that he cared much... In fact, he wished he could participate in that bloody training, for staying home didn't help his mood in the slightest - but at the same time he just didn't want to see anyone.

He was hopeless.

Never before had he skipped a training session due to bad mood. But, well, never before had he faced a situation like this one. The matter was serious, although he no longer knew why. He couldn't understand himself. He wasn't capable of making any sensible decision. In any case, he was dejected and angry with himself, he felt guilty and feared he had destroyed what was so dear to him: friendship with Otabek. The scene from the Monday training would haunt him like a nightmare. Being eighteen, he had behaved like a brat, and he despised himself for that. He'd been thinking that keeping it a secret had had a priority. That the most important had been to act normally - yet such insincerity had nearly turned him into another person, and, of course, it had brought its result.

His frustration had led to aggression, and even though that still might be something to understand, directing that aggression at the person who hadn't deserved it at all, could no longer be accepted. Fucking hell, Otabek was his friend! His best and only friend! He'd never done anything against Yuri's will, had never showed any negative emotions towards him, and yet Yuri had rejected his help, had roared up him and generally had made understand he'd had enough of him, even though nothing could be more far from the truth. And Otabek, who had never been angry or lost patience with him, had accepted that, turned away and left to continue with his business, while Yuri, instead of apologising and explaining, had simply run away - and now was at the very bottom, wondering what to do, even though he knew perfectly well what to do: to apologise.

But he had no guts to do so. Reality had crushed him to such an extent that he could no longer trust himself... and, besides, he was simply scared. First, if he were to apologise, he would also have to explain his behaviour - and he had no idea what kind of explanation he could offer. He was sick of lying already. Second, he didn't know how he would react when meeting with Otabek again. Maybe he would start blushing and averting his eyes, or maybe he would start shouting and spewing. Maybe he wouldn't be able to check himself and would reveal himself with some word of gesture, or maybe he would just make things worse and their friendship would definitely cease existing. He could pretty easily imagine each of those situations, and such visions made him freeze whenever he was about to grab his phone and call Otabek.

There was also the option that Otabek was through with him. It required bloody courage to admit it - and every time he did so, he felt his heart stopped beating - but he had to be frank with himself. That time, on ice, he had hoped Otabek wouldn't care about his display and objection, only would firmly insist on helping him off ice. Later, in the changing room, he still had hoped that Otabek would come to him, wouldn't let him go home by himself... Later, at home, he had hoped Otabek would call him, ask about his condition... But Otabek hadn't returned, hadn't called, hadn't sent a single message. Apparently, he had decided that Yuri was an adult and shouldn't be treated as a kid who could be forgiven for getting hysterics. There was nothing strange if he no longer wished to tolerate such brattish behaviour. And Yuri felt he had broken heart - not because he was in love and had been rejected, but because, due to his own foolishness and immaturity, he was losing someone who, in last two years and a half, had become part of his life.

Yet, he was young, and at least his physical injuries healed quickly. On Tuesday afternoon he decided to go to the gym, and on Wednesday he resumed his group trainings. He couldn't muster any enthusiasm to practise jumps, so he focused only on steps and general choreography, but it was still better than staying home and feeling sorry for himself. He tried not to care about Mila's concerned gaze, although, more than ever, he'd felt like talking to her. Decision to keep everything a secret weighed on him more and more - but not so much yet that he broke, even though he had nearly lost all hope to cope with the situation by himself.

He was aware that the longer he procrastinated, the lesser were chances things would be fixed. After another two days, however, he realised he really hoped that everything between Otabek and him _would simply be back at normal..._ just like that, without any additional efforts on his part. That when he went to the training the next Monday, Otabek would be there - just like always, calm and firm, as if nothing had happened between the two of them. As if only one week ago Yuri hadn't treated him like shit.

When he realised it, he became furious with himself like never before. "Fuck it!" he yelled and kicked the chair, making it fly at the wall. He still hadn't enough and threw off the lamp from the desk. "Fuck it all!"

Potya was meowing quietly under his bed; he had hidden himself there, scared by Yuri's sudden outburst. Yuri felt like crying over his own childishness again. Could he really do nothing but vent his frustration on those close to him? His fury was over right away. He leaned down and took the cat out, then sat down on the bed, his back against the wall and his face buried in Potya's fur.

"Yuri, I'm coming in," he heard from behind the door. "Be so kind and try to not hit me with anything."

He wiped his eyes and looked up at Lilia, who was standing in the doorway. She swept the room with her gaze, before looking at him. Then she entered and closed the door, put the chair back on its legs and sat down on it, without asking a permission. She stared at Yuri, hardly ever blinking and silent, until he could no longer bear her gaze and turned his head. He saw the broken lamp, lying on the floor by the desk.

"I'll buy you a new one," he muttered, involuntarily stroking Potya's fur.

"Don't be stupid," Lilia replied, still not moving.

He pulled his knees higher and said nothing. They sat like that another moment, until the theatrical sigh broke the silence.

"Yuri, in many respects you truly are a wonderful child, but you try to solve your problems in a wrong way," she said in a tone as if she was commenting the weather. "Well, I suppose you had no chance to really learn it," she added with greater concern.

He hunched even more. "I know. Reacting with aggression is bratty," he admitted. "Maybe I should go for some therapy to unlearn it?" he said with a tease, glancing at her.

She pressed her lips tighter, before speaking again. "When I was your age, I broke five sets of wine glasses that belonged to my parents. Not in rage, but rather methodically, smashing them one by one against the hearthstone, but believe me, I _was_ furious," she said with calm dignity, and Yuri thought he hadn't wanted to know that. "After things turned bad for Yakov and me, there was no set left in our apartment, either. It's not what I'm talking about," she said with emphasis, waving her hand in a dismissive manner.

He blinked. "Then what?"

"That you keep everything inside and suffer alone."

He stared at her, trying not to blush and failing at it. "I'm not telling you anything," he replied automatically, although some part of him was grateful... and felt urge to reveal everything he'd been agonising over for one week and a half now.

"I couldn't care less about your personal life," she said in a voice that really couldn't more indicate her lack of interest, "but you are an athlete in my care, and it's my duty to help you."

"Do you really think so?" he asked before he managed to bit his tongue.

Her gaze was very intense. "No. But if it makes you feel better, you can believe it. That you're living with a choreographer that cares only about your success."

Only she could say something like that. He shook his head in disbelief, but felt a bit lighter at heart. "I'm not telling you anything," he repeated stubbornly nonetheless.

She shrugged. "Then don't say... But in this case maybe I should start guessing aloud? How about it?"

He opened his eyes wide, knowing she was capable of doing it - as she was of finding out the truth. He blushed even more and squeezed Potya in his arms without thinking, making the cat meow in discontent.

"Last week Mila described you like, 'Yuratchka's gaze has never been so sharp before.' She was scared to even talk to you, when you were so focused on your training. This week, however, she said you looked like a cat that had been kicked all over in the back alley but that let no-one come closer and take care of his wounds," Lilia said outright. "Fortunately, I have a thick skin and don't fear feral cats", she stated and then, in the same breath, she added, "Your first love doesn't shape up well."

Yuri bit his lips. He felt like yelling, 'It's not your business, you old hag,' but he had hurt people around him enough already. Instead, he lowered his head and wondered how to escape this situation... and having no idea.

Lilia continued talking, never talking her intent gaze off him, and Yuri could do nothing but listen to her. "It's no wonder. First love hardly ever proceeds smoothly. I'm not talking about the relationship itself, but the general picture of it. How one's behaviour changes. How their way of treating people changes. How their are prone to ignore some things and exaggerate others. How their emotions affect every single situation. How they fly at heights of absolute happiness, only to fall in the pits of despair the very next moment. It doesn't mean love is bad, even though it makes us act like fools sometimes."

He wanted to say, 'It's not love,' just like he'd been telling himself the whole previous week, but bit his tongue. Throwing such an empty lie would change anything. Instead, he asked, "You're trying to praise or reproach me?"

She shook her head. "Neither, I suppose. What I'm trying is to tell you that such a spectrum of irrational behaviour, absolutely unacceptable in normal circumstances, is perfectly justified in love. If I were to praise you for anything, it would be your attempt to control it, alone and on your own will," she said and then added, "But it's the same I can reproach you for."

He snorted, looking up at her. "Makes no sense."

"Maybe," she agreed. "But it's something else that is important. If you accept that irrational behaviour of yours, you will also be able to forgive yourself for it."

He glanced at her again and squinted. "You know nothing," he said with dejection. "I can't-"

"Yuri Plisetsky," she interrupted him, without as much as raising her voice. "You are a figure skater genius, but do not fancy you're someone special off ice. You are an ordinary man who makes mistakes. And you're not as important that your mistakes might change the fate of the mankind. Don't get puff up with pride that makes you believe that doing something wrong or saying something bad would mean the end of the world. Every crime, every fault, even the gravest one, can be forgiven, and what you, an eighteen years boy, might do to deserve damnation? It's laughable," she said, although there was no laughter to her voice.

He stared at her, blinking and wondering again whether Lilia was praising or insulting him. As usual, he couldn't figure her out, but maybe he didn't really need. He looked outside the window and saw two gulls flying.

"Yuri, all of us know your terrible temper," Lilia kept speaking, and now there was some warmth to her words. "We are used to it... Still, I have to admit that at least last week you behaved calmly like an English gentleman. But don't imagine that once you turned eighteen, all your spontaneity or childishness would disappear at once. First, it's not possible; second, it should be like that. Be yourself, and maturity will come at its own pace, slowly, in little steps. Don't try to pack yourself in frames of adulthood by force, for it will only backfire. You already tend to reproach yourself for every little mistake twice as much as average person. And even though you're far from average on ice, outside the rink you're just like everyone and have any right to make mistakes," she repeated.

He shoved his fingers deeper into Potya's fur; the cat purred, curled on his chest. He knew she was right, like always, but he couldn't look her in the eyes yet. "Then, what should I do?" he asked in a low voice, angry with himself, but aware that he should have asked it last week already... not even ask her, but anyone who might have helped him.

"You expect me to have a ready answer for you?"

"Old hag," he replied automatically.

"What would you like to do?" she asked.

He didn't tear his gaze off the cloudless sky outside with more gulls flying in it now. "To apologise. And hope everything will be like before," he answered softly.

"It's undoubtedly the best option of all," she replied at once, and there was approval in her voice. "Because it's your own."

He stared at her in disbelief. "Then how is it different from what I've been doing so far when I tried to find a solution myself?" he asked mockingly, although he could feel the weight in his chest lessen.

"Good question. Maybe I simply wanted to come here and smart off a bit," she stated with self-irony. "But you have to agree that you have the answer now, even though you didn't have it just half an hour ago. Or did you throw my furniture for sport only?" she added with the same sarcasm as before, but he didn't care.

"No, you wanted to make me understand it's much easier to make decisions and believe in them when someone else reinforce them," he said, thoughtful, and then hunched more. "Thanks..." he muttered. Then he looked up at her, and his lips quivered in the first shade of smile. "What you said about forgiving crimes and faults... It wasn't yours, right?"

She rose and stared down at him. "Living-room, bookcase by the window, second shelf from the top. That is, of course, it you have it in yourself to deal with our national classics," she said provocatively, and Yuri right away decided he would read every book from that shelf. Well, at least some of them. One, certainly.

Lilia approached the door; she must have considered the talk finished. He blinked, astonished. "Are you not going to ask about it?" he blurted. Maybe he wanted to provoke her, too.

She glanced back over her shoulder. "Why, it's a secret," she stated the obvious, then smiled with the corners of her lips and left, shutting the door behind her.

Yuri was left with the feeling she had known everything anyway... but for some reason it wasn't unpleasant in the slightest.

He let Potya go and reached for his phone. Decisions should be realised at once. 'I'm sorry for Monday. Please, let's try again. See you!', he typed and sent without a second thought, then threw the phone aside and lay down with his elbow below his head. He was lying like that for a few moments, staring at the phone with his heart racing and trying not to think he might get no reply.

The reply, however, came almost at once. It was so like Otabek, concise and matter-of-fact, 'Fine. See you after the weekend!'... and yet - or because of it - Yuri felt like he'd been given heaven. He realised he had been underestimating Otabek all that time, considering him a person who would like to sever their relation due to Yuri's single excess. Even though the very same excess crushed Yuri, for Otabek it must have been but a small pebble that couldn't hurt anyone, even when hitting its aim. Lilia had been right, talking about exaggerated reactions and irrational conclusions.

He would try again. He had yet to cope with his feelings, with that... love that he didn't stop cursing and regretting. 'Love is not bad,' he remembered Lilia's words, and his chest tickled. No, it wasn't bad. Anything that related to Otabek wasn't bad, he was sure of that... Back to his trouble, however - he still hadn't find a solution, but now he could believe he would manage somehow. He regained hope for a happy ending - and it was a divine feeling.

He ordered a delivery of hundred roses for Lilia. She said he was a total moron. Still, he felt better, knowing he was a moron capable of thanking for help.


	6. Chapter 6

It was both calmly and with fear that Yuri awaited the next Monday; he already knew it was possible to feel in such a contradicting way. He was calm because the danger had been thwarted; he was anxious because he feared the next one could arise. What he feared above all was his own reactions. He feared that, no matter how many times he promised to behave reasonably, there might be some situation he would lose control over himself. He was determined to never - ever! - offend Otabek again, in any way, but he still could imagine himself move abruptly if Otabek touched him, or avert his gaze if Otabek stared at him, or run away if the situation was too dangerous. He was certain he would manage in any other case; he was able to train on the same ice and talk in the same changing room. He was even capable of laughing and joking, regardless of all this tension. He did want to believe himself again and to trust that everything would be just fine, but the last two weeks had acutely proved him wrong and showed him his own imperfection. Once - in the beginning of the month? - he had considered himself a person who could face any trial if he decided so. That Yuri Plisetsky seemed nearly a stranger to him now.

He wondered what it was he really wished for. Oh, the most he wished he could fall out of love with Otabek, but this was rather impossible, at least for now. Well, he wanted everything between Otabek and him to be back at normal - but... this was impossible as well, wasn't it? If he managed to overcome his... say, physical impulses and instincts... would it be okay? After all... friendship was a kind of love, right? If he ceased feeling... sexually attracted to Otabek, would it be fine? Or were those non-physical desire too strong to contain it within the confines of 'friendship'? He did want Otabek to look at him and see only him, to be beside him, all the time and so close it was possible. For God's sake, he wanted to skate together with him...! Could you even reconcile something like this with normal and healthy male friendship? Or was it that Yuri Plisetsky just had to show his quality, silently enduring one-sided, unrequited love...? Did he have it in him to rise to the challenge?

He did - he answered himself right away - but for how long? That, he didn't know.

In any case, Monday arrived - both too quickly and too slowly. Half past eight, Yuri was standing in front of the ice rink and shifting from one foot to the other as he waited for the keeper to open. He was early, again, but he told himself it would help him get prepared. He started his normal routine, but he managed only to change when Otabek appeared in the door. And it wasn't even a quarter to nine!

Looking at his frame in the entrance, Yuri forced himself not to blush - before, he hadn't realised it to be possible, yet it was. Even in the dim light (the keeper had yet to screw in a new bulb) once could see those splendid muscles of his chest, abdomen and arms, for in summer Otabek wouldn't clad his upper body in more than a T-shirt.

He gulped and made himself look at Otabek's face. "Hi," he said in a casual voice, or so he hoped.

"Hi," Otabek replied, staring at him intently.

And Yuri felt that even that look - perfectly typical for Otabek - turned him into a wobbling jelly. Not good... but he had expected it. Well, he couldn't show anything. He turned his head and reached for the band to secure his hair. No, his hands wouldn't tremble, he decided, sweeping his hair into a ponytail. His concentration was, however, interrupted by the noise he never really heard here. His head snapped up, and he saw Otabek close the door they normally didn't bother to shut. His heart started to race. Irrationally, he felt like in a trap.

He wanted to ask why Otabek had done it, but drawing attention to himself wouldn't do, and besides he didn't trust his voice.

"I think we have to talk," Otabek said, as if reading Yuri's mind, and took a step towards him. "We should leave it for later, but I don't want to risk you... run away again. And I really don't feel like leaving it for later."

Yuri stared at him, his eyes wide, and suddenly couldn't utter a word. His heart was pounding in his chest, as if he were skating the second half of his free programme, and his mouth was dry. His gaze darted to the door. There was no lock; he could get out. Like a wild animal, he dashed towards it, urged by an instinct that dominated his action. He had to get out, the situation was too dangerous; escape was his only option.

Without trouble, Otabek caught him by his waist when Yuri tried to pass him by. Yuri gasped and jerked backwards, his breathing quick. Otabek let go of him but was still standing between him and the door, and his face was so damn calm and impassive, like always. Yuri bit his lips, trying not to shiver. He clenched his fists and took a step back.

"Let me out," he said with some warning, although he felt he would go hysterics any moment. He took another deep breath.

"I didn't know you had a claustrophobia," Otabek replied without moving a muscle.

"Otabek Altin, I have no claustrophobia," Yuri said, aware that this scene probably was amusing if there were any bystanders.

He had to get a grip on himself. His gaze ran to the door once more, but he knew that if Otabek didn't want to let him out, he had no chance for doing it. Otabek was much stronger... and Yuri himself realised he didn't want to get close to him again. It struck him that Otabek had kept him in his embrace just a moment ago, and a heat wave crept onto his face.

He took another step back, suddenly unable to look ahead.

"Yura, have I done anything wrong?" Otabek asked.

"No," Yuri replied automatically.

"It seemed to me that way, too," Otabek agreed, and now there was some hint of irony to his words.

Yuri focused his gaze on him again. Otabek was rarely ironic, straightforward as he was. He would say his opinion directly, his comments didn't have any hidden meaning, and he didn't play with subtexts. It was one of innumerable virtues Yuri liked him for so much.

Liked...

He blushed again and took yet another step back. The door was getting more and more distant, and his chances for escape grew slimmer... No, he had no chance at all. He had to stay here... for how long? What had Otabek said? That he'd wanted to talk. Sweet God, about what? Not about _that_ , certainly...? But what else, then?

He licked his lips and concentrated his gaze at some point behind Otabek's ear. "What..." he started and heard how hoarse his voice was. He swallowed and started again, "What do you want to talk about?" And once he said it, he felt angry all of the sudden. "Can't we talk later? Don't you trust me, even if I promise that we will talk later?" he demanded. "We'll have something to eat like... like we were to last week..." _Before I ruined everything,_ he added in his thought and then shook his head. "First training, then talking."

"Would you be able to focus on training now?" Otabek asked keenly.

Yuri glanced at him, before averting his eyes. "Will I be able to focus _after_ the talk?" he said, although he knew he was exposing himself.

"Point to you," Otabek admitted. "No, it's not that I don't trust you," he returned to the previous topic. "I just... don't want to wait. I want to take care of this matter before everything else."

Yuri gave him an astonished look again. Otabek not so often would say he wanted to do something. It was so unlike him to announce his will so outright, almost in a demanding manner. Then, Yuri asked himself, was it something more serious in question, now? Sure, it had to be about... why Yuri had acted so strangely of late, damn it...

"I want to talk about that what has been between us, Yura, for two weeks already."

"I've no idea what you're talking about," Yuri answered at once... and much too quickly, that he realised the next moment.

Nonetheless, in his current state, the only way to control himself was to pull back and deny. Calm analysis, seeking for the best answer and governing this conversation was completely impossible for him. He hadn't even suspected he would once need such skills when with this particular person. But he could still remember the promise he'd made with himself: he would do nothing to hurt Otabek.

"But I have," Otabek replied, never taking his eyes off him, and Yuri felt his heart make some strange acrobatics in his chest.

He stared at him in disbelief, perfectly aware of his blush. He pulled his hand to his chest, as if he wanted to guard himself. His mouth was dry again, and his head was empty. What should he... what should he say? How should he react...? He had no idea, so he kept standing like that and staring.

"We have to overcome it, Yura. You don't believe we can do it?" he heard Otabek's low voice, and now there was some softness to his words.

Involuntarily, Yuri shook his head, although he didn't know what was he answering – maybe anything or maybe everything. His heart was hammering, and he was under impression he couldn't breathe.

Otabek took one step towards him.

"No! Don't come any closer!" Yuri cried in a panic, lifting one hand. He took another step back, but then his legs touched the edge of the bench, and he realised he no longer had anywhere to run.

Otabek, however, complied with his request and stopped. "Yuri Plisetsky, are you afraid of me?" he asked in disbelief.

"No!" Yuri called out, trying to contain the scream in his throat. But it was the answer he was perfectly certain of. He sat down on the bench and pulled up his knees. He clenched his teeth, for it seemed to him they would start clattering any moment.

"In that case, what is it you're afraid of?" he heard Otabek's calm voice.

"Myself," Yuri uttered, hunching, and shut his eyes.

He was aware he'd just exposed himself even more, but suddenly he understood that whatever he might say, it wouldn't help him win this battle with Otabek. Actually, he didn't even know what it meant, 'to win'. He hunched on the bench, his face touching his knees and his arms around them. He was trembling all over - like a child that suddenly faced a monster. But Otabek wasn't a monster... neither were it those feelings filling him for two weeks now... It was him, Yuri Plisetsky, that people always called that: beautiful, ever-evolving monster. A talent that never ceased to develop... Now he was under the impression nothing could be more far from the truth. Now it seemed to him he had degraded to some very primitive life form.

A creaking noise and a tremble told him that Otabek sat down at the other end of the bench. He wasn't coming closer; he kept that distance between them. Yuri realised he could escape from here - but, at the same time, he understood that even if he avoided the confrontation now, another one would come. For a second, he wondered whether he'd rather have those few moments of blagged peace. If he could delay... postpone, just a bit, that... inevitable... But how long would he last? If confrontation was to come anyway, there was no point in stalling. Besides... He remembered what he'd written in the message. 'Let's try again.' If he ran away now, what kind of try would that be?

He took a deep breath and then another one. His fingers, clutching the fabric of his leggings, were still trembling, but he ceased feeling that panic that had paralysed him a while ago. Nothing was happening; there was no danger. Otabek was sitting there and doing nothing, only waiting patiently. There was no threat. Not at all.

For the first time in the last two weeks, he realised he felt safe with Otabek. Again.

'You don't believe we can overcome it?' Otabek had asked, but there was no question in his voice, only conviction.

"You're not running away," Otabek said.

Yuri shook his head. His face was still hidden, and his eyelids were pressed tight. He had made his decision and didn't plan to change it. It didn't mean he was going to tell everything now... he just couldn't say _that_... But if Otabek had guessed... anything... then Yuri would no longer deny it, it was no use. That was, in case Otabek had really guessed it right, like he'd claimed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be so pushy," he heard Otabek say.

His head snapped up, and he looked at him. He hadn't expected such words. They were so off here...! He was the only one who should apologise. "Don't...!" he said in a strangled voice. The last thing he needed was Otabek feeling guilty...!

"I was being selfish. From the very beginning," Otabek said calmly, so like him.

"I think it's the high time," Yuri muttered and then realised it. "After all... you always adjust to me. You always go with me, to say nothing of bearing with my... temper," he added in a lower voice and looked down. Then, however, he dared to look him in the eye again. "I feel like you never do what... what you really want," he risked the assumption.

"Your friendship is that important to me," Otabek replied outright, although Yuri wasn't sure whether it was a logical answer.

He stared at him in disbelief. But, it was the same for him...! He focused on those words, consciously ignoring the warmth they'd evoked in his chest. He shook his head. "I'm sorry I reacted that way last week," he said on impulse. "I didn't mean anything like that... No, I wasn't even angry with you. I'm sorry. You wanted to help me, but I... Sorry. I couldn't do... otherwise," he whispered and pressed his face to his knees again.

"It's okay, I'm not mad at you," he heard the calm voice. "I wasn't mad that time, either."

He felt like crying - of relief now. For some reason, he always believed Otabek. He knew no other person who could say the truth and nothing but the truth. Otabek had never lied to him, Yuri was sure of that one hundred percent. If he said he hadn't been mad at him, then he really hadn't... and that was despite Yuri having given him more than one reason to be.

They sat in silence another while, and Yuri felt he was calming down. Was it because their friendship was safe? Or exactly because of that very friendship that was the best thing that had ever happened to him? This moment, he knew with the full conviction he would renounce all that - all those other feelings and all those desires creating the whole net of dreams - and would stick to this friendship. As long as he could... that was, as long as Otabek didn't notice.

In the meantime, he'd managed to forget that Otabek had probably noticed already.

"Won't you tell me what it is about?" Otabek asked in a soft voice, not moving from his spot.

Yuri hunched more. No, he just couldn't say it... but something in him wished that Otabek went on.

And Otabek, as if receiving those silent signals, went on. "You'd like our relationship to... change." It wasn't a question, only statement, and Yuri felt his ear burn again. "You're not happy with the current state."

"It's not that I'm not happy," Yuri muttered involuntarily, but he decided to be frank.

His heart was beating quickly, and he felt hot, but he was holding up somehow and started to hope that everything could yet end well. He still didn't know what that good end would be, though... Suddenly, he remembered what Lilia had said the other day when he'd been standing by the shelf with the novels by Russian classics, holding the one that title he'd liked the most. 'Every story should have a happy epilogue'.

"Okay, it's just not enough for you any more," Otabek corrected.

Yuri decided it sounded terribly... but was true nonetheless. He nodded, admitting his greed.

"Then... how would you like us to be? What do you want from me?" Otabek's voice was calm... as if he really didn't feel offended by Yuri's greed.

Yuri poke out one eye from the safe shield of his shoulder and then hid it again. He knew he wouldn't be able to say _it_ , even if Otabek asked him thousand of times.

"Do you want me to be your boyfriend?"

"No!" Yuri replied right away... maybe because he hadn't thought of Otabek that way, not even once.

"No?" now there was a genuine surprise in Otabek's voice. "I thought... Hmm, then... you just want to have sex with me...?"

Yuri felt he was getting redder, although he'd thought it to be impossible. "No..." he moaned, although should he really deny it?

The next moment he wondered how Otabek could have said something like that so calmly. Ah, of course he could - after all, he didn't feel the same way Yuri did. For him, such things were abstract and devoid of any emotional aspect. It was only Yuri who felt he was standing on the edge of a precipice and a single gush of wind might made him fall. Actually, it was fucking unfair that one of them was calm as a rock and the other was trembling like a leaf. But maybe that was that balance of nature in question.

In any case, it seemed that Otabek had figured him out. Well, it made sense. His behaviour in the last two weeks - even if it was in fact _just three encounters_ \- was far from normal, regardless of how hard he'd tried to control it. Of course Otabek had seen through him... He was the most perceptive person Yuri had ever known.

Paradoxically, now that there were no longer any secrets between them, he didn't dare to look him in the eye. He feared to see a disgust in Otabek's gaze - a herald of an end of their friendship.

"I don't want you to hate me," he blurted out. "I didn't want you to notice. I wanted... I believed it would go away. That I just had to hold on and reveal nothing," he kept talking, although every word came with difficulty. But since Otabek already knew, it was better to say those things aloud. "I didn't want you to notice," he repeated helplessly, fully aware such regret was out of place now.

"Well, I did notice," Otabek stated, and there was no negative emotion in his voice, only some embarrassment. "I'm not saying you were obvious or anything. Don't even think that, but... I just put two and two together."

Yuri hunched even more, but he couldn't really get smaller. "When?" he whispered.

"Tuesday two weeks ago."

Yuri clenched his teeth at that painful truth. He felt ashamed. Otabek had noticed _right away_ , despite his best efforts... He was a complete loser... but then again, what did it matter now? Nothing at all. Instead, he focused on another matter. "And regardless of it..." he uttered. "Regardless of it... you still wanted to see me?" he asked, although his chest ached.

"It was you feeling bad, not me," Otabek replied, although that reply must have been obvious only to him. "There was no harm to me."

"You wasn't scared I would jump you?" Yuri blurted out without a second thought and then wished he could disappear.

"Yura, I think you're underestimating me," he heard Otabek's calm, lucid and so very firm voice.

He looked up at him, unable to understand.

"I don't believe you could hurt me in any way," Otabek explained to him, even though he hadn't asked.

"But..."

"It's impossible," Otabek said, looking him straight in the eye.

Yuri frowned. He was under the impression he would get a headache if he tried to think even more. Thus, he stopped and focused on the most crucial problem instead.

"Then... you don't want to finish everything between us?" he uttered, although his lips were quivering and he could no longer see clearly.

Otabek stood up and stretched his hand to him; there was no hesitation in his moves, only pure decisiveness.

"Yuri Plisetsky, would you skate with me?" he asked in an unfaltering voice.


	7. Chapter 7

Yuri stared at Otabek in a complete astonishment and forgot all about crying. Otabek was standing before him, his figure straight, his right hand stretched in an inviting gesture and his face expressing a calm determination. For the first time this day, Yuri thought it wasn't really happening... that it was just an incredible dream... But it was Otabek's typical expression and Otabek's typical manners - something that was the most real. He could doubt anything else, but Otabek's firm calm would always restore his sense of reality. If it had been a dream - a dream of someone as crazy as Yuri Plisetsky - Otabek would have undoubtedly behaved in a more extravagant way...

Of course, what he'd just done _was_ extravagant, but in his own unique fashion. Yuri shifted his gaze on the open palm and then looked Otabek in the eye again. Otabek was awaiting his answer; he was staying in place, two steps away, not breaching Yuri's personal space, not imposing on him. Giving him a choice.

Yuri gulped and then nodded silently, fixing his eyes on the floor. He knew he was blushing to the roots of his hair. His heart was racing like mad again in his chest. Yet, that pain that had been crushing him just a minute ago and making it difficult to breathe, was gone now. Apparently, Otabek didn't wish to end their friendship... but _what_ he wished was still unknown. In any case, Yuri had expected to be rejected... yet Otabek had done something completely opposite: had reached to him, literally too. Unless... he wanted to part with him in such a final and spectacular way. The thought was damn upsetting and evoked that unpleasant pang in his chest again.

"Then, put your skates on, and I'll change right away," Otabek said and started to prepare himself, indeed.

Yuri cast him a shy glance, and it seemed to him he could see a light shade of pink over his cheeks. He realised he'd never seen Otabek blushing before... and it stirred a very first positive emotion during this conversation. Then... this situation was affecting Otabek as well? For some reason, the thought didn't feel bad, quite the contrary... It was enough that, most of the time, he would feel terribly immature with Otabek, even though they were just two years apart... If Otabek was embarrassed now, even _slightly_ , it gave Yuri some confidence, for - he realised it now - Otabek was sometimes pretty frightening: always perfectly composed.

But, he asked himself right away, if Otabek was embarrassed, didn't it mean he was doing something he didn't want? That he was forcing himself to act that way... for Yuri's sake? Hadn't he said it himself, 'Your friendship is important to me,' when Yuri had asked why not do what he wanted himself? Yuri's hand froze in the mid-air as he tried to understand Otabek's motives. His rational self, completely shouted down by his raging emotions during the last hour, showed itself and told him that he'd better cut off his head, for analysing Otabek's every single gesture and statement and making exaggerated conclusions wouldn't do him any good and instead would lead to the nervous breakdown. He knew that but...

Otabek noticed his stillness. "You don't want to do it, after all?" he asked, and Yuri thought there was some disappointment to his words, although he might have just imagined that. "That's fine... if you don't want-"

"I want!" Yuri called out, and it was his very first real answer during this strange conversation. "I want..."

Of course he wanted. After all, he'd spent last two weeks, _dreaming_ of skating with Otabek. He'd been imagining it every day, aware those had been just visions that would never come true... And now Otabek was giving him an opportunity... had offered it himself...! Even if Yuri had no idea why... he just couldn't let his chance pass. He wanted. He wanted to do it! Even if it would be the last thing in his life...!

His hands were trembling as he was tying the laces, but his determination helped him to finally stand up with skates on. Otabek was ready about the same time. However, before they left the changing room, he leaned down to check Yuri's bindings, and Yuri was staring at him with his ears red. "I know you're a pro. It's just in case," his friend said, rising again, and Yuri wondered whether Otabek's personality would ever cease surprising him. Always positively.

He nodded, too excited to say anything. Then Otabek reached to him again, and Yuri, with the feeling he would faint from emotional overload any moment, took his hand, his eyes fixed on the floor again. Somehow, he managed to stay conscious, and they soon stepped in the ice, although he didn't stop wondering how come his legs could still bear him. It might be that once, long ago, he'd felt a similar tension before a competition - for it strangely reminded a stage fright - but he couldn't really remember. Now he was under the absurd impression that he was going to skate the most important programme in his life, and everything depended on it... Programme...

"What are we going to skate, actually?" he asked without thinking, yet it was the most lucid remark he'd made today.

"Your free skate from the last season," Otabek replied as if he'd had that answer ready.

Knowing him, he had, and Yuri felt another heat wave creeping onto his face upon the thought Otabek might have planned it all along... He nodded, trying to concentrate on the situation and calm down his heart, pounding in his chest with some silly hope. Technically-wise, they might make it. Every year, Otabek would practice Yuri's programmes, too. He explained that it helped him to improve himself... but was it the real cause? Yuri decided he wouldn't think of it now, for the moment required his all attention.

Himself, he still remembered the choreography - his body remembered - even though the season had ended two months ago and he'd been already practising his new routine. Yes, they should make it, since they both knew what to skate. They only needed to be careful and not to run into each other, and there should be no problem... Still, it wasn't all there was to it; it wasn't about skating the same programme solo... was it now? Otabek had said 'with me', so it meant 'together'. _Together_... like Victor and Katsudon... together on the same ice... together... together... He nearly lost courage, and his body tensed as if it was going to flee again.

Then, however, Otabek squeezed his hand, as if trying to comfort him, before letting go of him and moving to the centre of the rink. Yuri, irrationally, felt abandoned, but he knew what to do in order to nullify this sensation. He drew up to stop some two meters from Otabek. Otabek answered his questioning look with a nod, and Yuri felt a smile stretching his lips. It was a wonderful feeling, for it seemed to him he hadn't smiled for ages. And with smile came the first hope for the happy ending, whatever it might be.

He raised his arms and bent his body in the starting position. In the corner of his eye, he saw Otabek do the same. His heart was still beating hard and fast, but there was something familiar about this situation - like an excitation preceding the performance: not paralysing but invigorating. It took him a split second to understand it was the magic of ice. On ice, he didn't need to fear anything, for it was a stage he could show his quality on, and the success depended only on himself. Off ice, he'd been just an ordinary and insignificant person, but here he was capable of anything. He felt he was getting calm; it was that well know calm of self-confidence and belief in his own abilities. On ice, he had control. On ice, he was free.

Although no music played, he started to skate as if he could hear it. His body was moving along those soundless notes and accords, easily capturing all nuances and interpreting anti-melody in its own way. He knew - could sense it with his all - that Otabek was skating beside him, and it made him happy. He smiled and jumped up to a quad Salchow, landing it cleanly - just like Otabek two metres away. At the next straight, he turned to look at him. Otabek looked back... and grabbed his hand. Yuri blinked, but the next second he was already adjusting the routine to that new arrangement. He thought it was pleasant... and he didn't want to stop.

However, it was time for the second jump, a triple Axel, so he let go of Otabek - but after landing their hands found each other again. Yuri's smile grew wider, and Otabek's face lit up, too. So far they'd been doing better Yuri could have expected. Yet, when executing the last jumps of the first half - quadruple-triple toe loop combination - Otabek did only one... and Yuri nearly landed in his arms, for Otabek was already waiting for him.

This time they grabbed each other by both hands, and the slower part of the programme enabled them to do it. Otabek placed himself behind him and they moved like that for a moment, their arms abducted, before Otabek released his grip on Yuri's one hand and raised the other one... and Yuri instinctively turned on his own axis, before facing him. And, unbelievable, Otabek smiled...! Maybe he too was pleased with that successful pair skating. Otabek's smile made Yuri's heart leap...

...and the next moment, on sheer impulse, Yuri moved one hand against his cheek and neck. Otabek grabbed his hand and brushed its inside with his lips, but before Yuri managed to react, Otabek grasped his waist and turn him in the mid-air. Yuri went with the punch and did the same, and for the rest of the slow part they skated one by one, and now it was not only their hands that were touching. When the programme entered the final part, Yuri knew what elements he would discard in favour of this joint interpretation. He took liking to this pair skating - skating together - and didn't plan to return to singles now.

He turned to Otabek and wrapped one arm around his neck, looking him in the again. Never before had he been so close - and one hour ago he hadn't believed he would ever be - but now it didn't bother him in the slightest. He felt safe on ice. Ice was the place where he was able to show everything and not be ashamed. Ice was his; here he could do anything he wanted. Keeping the eye contact, he slipped his fingers into Otabek's hair and then touched his face with his other hand. Otabek took him by the waist again...

...and Yuri just put one leg around his hip and then - when Otabek's hands tightened their grip - the other as well, although it required great attention. Otabek moved his hands onto his tights, holding him firmly, as if he never planned to let go. Yuri trusted his strength. He leaned backwards and stretched his hands over his head until his fingers touched the ice. However, he pulled up soon, drawing his face close to Otabek's, so that their noses almost touched. He felt Otabek's hands moving onto his back and neck, pushing him closer until there was no free space between them. Yuri couldn't refrain from brushing his palm against Otabek's cheek and jaw. Otabek gave him a calm look, but something burned in his gaze, and Yuri decided it was a deep satisfaction.

The next moment Otabek surprised him again, grabbing his waist and putting him on the ice, before moving away. Yuri had that impression of being abandoned once more when he lost the touch of body under his palms. He understood that, if he wanted to satisfy that need for contact, he had to take care of it himself. Otabek was skating away from him, so Yuri followed until he realised Otabek was preparing for the next jump... and made it a point of honour to jump the same one, and land it cleanly, too. He knew it would be the last element; even if he'd changed some figures in the meantime, he had the whole choreography recorded in his body, in his muscles and tendons, and the music he couldn't hear was still playing in his head. Flip or Lutz? Those were the jumps - triple ones - he'd always performed at the end of his free skate in the last season, and now he was feeling so high he had no doubt he could do it. But flip or Lutz? He decided just a split second before taking off... Lutz! He sprung up, in the corner of his eye seeing Otabek do the same. One rotation... two... three... four... Four?

He didn't registered landing. He was filled with euphoria, as if he'd just cleanly skated a programme for medal. His eyes searched Otabek, who turned to him as well, and they started to run to each other until their hands clasped together, and they finished the performance with some particular double spin. Silent music stopped, along with the echo of applause and ovation, and Yuri realised he was standing in Otabek's embrace, gasping for breath, just like Otabek behind his back. He couldn't stop smiling. He didn't remember the last time he'd felt so great... and now there was something more than satisfaction after a flawlessly skated routine. He thought of the proverb, 'shared joy is a double joy'... This very moment he was one hundred percent certain that no performance, even the one bringing him an Olympic gold, wouldn't give him as much pleasure as what they had just done with Otabek.

He turned his head to look at the best friend he could ever have. In Otabek's eyes he spotted the same pride that must be seen on his own face. Otabek's arms were still wrapped around his chest... and it felt as natural as everything that had happened between the two of them on the ice so far.

"It was great... Simply fantastic," he said, still smiling.

"Wasn't it?" Otabek agreed with him.

Yuri turned to him to look with admiration, touching his shoulders. Otabek's hands moved down onto his waist. "Otabek Altin, you're a fucking genius," he said, fully convinced of it. "How come you haven't won a single gold medal yet?"

"Maybe I should switch to pairs," Otabek replied with untypical sarcasm.

"Maybe..." Yuri muttered, although he didn't like the idea in the slightest.

"But only with you," Otabek added, giving him a very penetrating yet very open look, which made Yuri's heart beat faster. "Besides... if I am a genius, then what should be said of you?"

Yuri shook his head. "Why, it was _my_ programme to begin with," he murmured, lowering his head. "I just happened to still remember it..."

"Your perfected programme," Otabek qualified. "Putting aside the choreography... It was quad Lutz, wasn't it? You landed it perfectly," he said appreciatively.

Yuri nodded and looked at him gratefully... and then he realised he was still touching him. He withdrew his hands and took one step back, getting out of Otabek's grasp when the intimacy of the situation struck him... and everything what had been torturing him for the last two weeks returned. Feeling of loss made his chest ache. Just a moment ago, when they'd been skating, everything had been so natural... He'd managed to forget about _that_ and had simply enjoyed being with Otabek, doing something together and having fun, so much fun! Now he was under the impression that the barrier had appeared between them again, and he suspected he would turn into a shaking jelly any moment now, just like before... And after Otabek had helped him to regain his own self!

Then, however, Otabek grabbed his hands. "Thank you," he said outright, and Yuri looked at him involuntarily.

He shook his head. "No, _I_ thank _you_ ," he said in a soft voice, wanting to both avert his eyes and never stop staring at Otabek's face... and this time it was the latter that prevailed, although it was still safer to look at Otabek's mouth and nose than in his eye. "That time... in the changing room... If you hadn't done it, I would have felt much worse," he said upon suddenly realising it. "And what... what we did... was fantastic," he repeated and smiled.

"Actually, I did it mostly for my own sake," Otabek replied, his hands still holding Yuri's hands, and Yuri let him do so, for he was too absorbed with his words.

"What do you mean...?"

He could swear he saw a faint flush creeping on Otabek's cheeks, and it had nothing to do with the physical exertion.

"I wanted to know how it would feel to touch you," Otabek said point-blank, just like he used to, although it didn't lessen Yuri's astonishment in the slightest. "I thought it would be a good way to find out."

Yuri was staring at him, aware he was blushing again, which was quite peculiar when he had yet to recover after skating. Then, however, he surprised himself even more, asking without any conscious intention, "And?"

Still, Otabek was a winner in the category 'the biggest surprise of the day' when, instead of replying in a normal way, he leaned forward and kissed him.

Yuri blinked, suddenly certain he was dreaming... but did nothing to wake up.

It wasn't even a real kiss, Otabek was just touching his lips, yet Yuri felt like he was going to explode when he realised that Otabek Altin had just kissed him.

How could it be possible?

Otabek moved back and looked him in the eye again. "I think it's all right," he said. "And even better I expected."

Yuri kept staring at him, utterly perplexed... until a nasty thought struck him: that it could be just fun for Otabek. It was nasty because of its content, but even more due to that very suspicion. Deep inside, he knew Otabek Altin wasn't someone to play this way.

Thus, instead of asking, 'Were you serious?', he said, "And what now?", which was the more important matter.

"What would you like to do?" Otabek replied with another question.

Yuri was speechless again and then thought he wasn't sure how to answer that. It was too general question... He thought he really wanted to sit down and think calmly, and talk calmly. However, he was under the impression that if he went back to the changing room, something between the two of them would be destroyed - that bond, different they'd had until now, he could feel here, on ice. Once more, he remembered what he'd written in the sms, 'Let's try again.'

He took a deep breath and, even though it was so unlike him - Yuri Plisetsky he'd been just until a moment ago wouldn't think twice, only jump Otabek as if he wanted to devour him whole... or drown in him completely - he decided that his priority was to know where he was, even if it made him look like a total moron. Not that it was any different from what he'd been in the last two weeks...

"Why did you want to know how it would feel to... touch me?" he asked, forcing himself to keep the eye contact, although it required all his courage to say it aloud.

Now a surprise flashed in Otabek's eyes. Yuri interpreted it as, 'But that's what you wanted'.

He nodded. "Yes, I know that's what I wanted... I still want," he said in a low voice... and it didn't come with difficulty, now that it was no longer any secret. "But why _you_ wanted to know?"

"I wondered about it since that Tuesday two weeks ago," Otabek replied. "I wondered if I could do it in case our relationship were to change. If I could answer you the way you wanted. No, it's not that..." he corrected right away. "Rather, I came to the conclusion there was no other option, and started to prepare myself."

Yuri blinked again. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Otabek had said it so calmly and firmly, in his normal tone, as if he were talking about changing an old pair of skates to a new one.

"And it didn't occur to you to, rather, end this relationship?" he whispered. "Something like that would be perfectly understandable."

"No," Otabek replied, and Yuri knew he believed him, although it was something unbelievable.

"Why?" he asked, for he couldn't really grasp it.

"I'm your friend," he was given another truth as an answer.

"It can't be that simple," Yuri said, shaking his head.

"It is."

"Then... Every guy will say it's all right when his best friend wants to sleep with him?" he said with disbelief, irony and provocation.

Otabek ignored each of them and replied simply, "I'm not 'every'. You are not 'every'."

Yuri was staring at him, unable to utter a word... Some part of him kept telling him he shouldn't be surprised. Otabek always had answers... and always had last words, no matter how much Yuri raged. And now he was standing before him, still holding his hands and looking at him with that damn calm gaze of him. He was telling him such things Yuri had never expected to hear... yet believed without reservation. If it were anyone else, he would have never believed - but Otabek didn't use to lie.

Otabek went on, "Before, you said I always adjusted to you, and I said that your friendship was that important to me. Still, I don't want you to think that now I... hmm, make a sacrifice or something. I don't treat our friendship as some kind of trophy I can't afford to lose because it would be, like, uncool. No, I just hold you dear and want you to be part of my life. And I want to be part of your life. Do you understand what I mean?"

Yuri nodded. Oh, he understood, he perfectly understood - mostly because he felt exactly the same. He wanted to be with Otabek not due to some pride or desire to have, but because Otabek made his life better.

"I accepted you for better or for worse. I did long ago," Otabek continued. "I can't imagine anything to stand between us, to divide us. That's why I want to adjust and think I'm fine with anything."

"But to change your sexual preference... Isn't it overdoing it?" Yuri asked, wondering whether he was still able to feel surprised.

"Who says about changing it?" Otabek replied, raising his brow. "I'd rather think I discovered that part of me I hadn't realised until now. And that's because of you," he emphasised.

Yuri shook his head. "Okay, but you said you'd wanted to know..." he reminded Otabek his previous words. "What if it hadn't worked? What if you'd realised it was absolutely impossible? What then?"

"Then I would've given myself more time," Otabek replied, and there was some satisfaction in his voice, although the next moment he winced slightly. "In the worst case, I'd have tried to wait it out," he added, although that option apparently pleased him the least. "You said yourself you wanted to wait it out, right? Well, in any case, I haven't thought for a moment you could do anything... haven't thought you could do anything to _me_."

"Really?" Yuri asked with his eyes like saucers.

"Why? As far as I was concerned, you've rather tried to run away from me during those two weeks. When we skated a moment ago, you haven't jumped me either, or tried to rape me, even though you had plenty occasions, right?" Otabek said in a lucid voice and very directly, even for him.

Yuri lowered his eyes, blushing up to his ears. He knew it would take a while to proceed everything he'd been told during the last half an hour. Otabek could be silent for months... but he was also able to say so much things in just a few minutes that other people didn't say during the whole year. It was natural that such a condensed dose could stupefy and required time to be absorbed. Still, Yuri thought he knew what was the main point here... and he felt dizzy again.

Had Otabek Altin really said he wanted... was ready to... with him...? He felt his hands tremble, or maybe he was trembling all over, suddenly completely thrown off balance - but, at the same time, so terribly… so awfully happy...!

He raised his eyes and looked at Otabek with delight. And admiration. And affection. "Are you an angel?" he asked without thinking... and then realised he really thought so.

"Says the man who skated _Agape_ in his senior debut," Otabek replied with a shade of smile.

" _Agape_ has nothing to do with it," Yuri replied, never taking his eyes off him. "But, Otabek... What if... you regret it?"

"I haven't regretted a single day with you. Don't expect me to start now," Otabek replied with conviction.

Yuri felt his eyes sting... but this one time he didn't care about showing his weakness. With all things Otabek already knew about him, there was no reason to be bothered by tears. But he promised himself that the next time he would by no means act as a weepy girl. The next time he would show Otabek who Yuri Plisetsky really was.

"Then..."

"I think we can try," his friend said, nodding.

No promises, no declarations... yet single 'we can try', coming out of Otabek Altin's mouth, sounded like a life-long vow.

Yuri nodded, too, and wiped his eyes. He looked at Otabek and smiled, and Otabek smiled back, in his own way. Yuri felt his sense of security, that he'd lacked for the last two weeks, was being restored. The feeling of relief was so intense that he swayed, but Otabek grabbed him by his shoulders right away. Yuri trembled... and then, mustering his courage, pressed himself against Otabek, hiding his face in the curve of his neck. Otabek embraced him, and they stayed like that in silence, full of understanding and mutual respect, and Yuri thought he had never felt so good before.

"Then, let me ask again... What would you like to do?" Otabek spoke once he was sure Yuri calmed down.

Yuri detached himself and spent a moment simply looking at the face he'd loved more than anything. Apparently, Otabek didn't like to lose time once he'd made his decision - yes, it was so like him. Yuri smiled, cupped his head and kissed him... and this time it was a real kiss. As his tongue acquainted with Otabek's - judging from the way Otabek's fingers clutched on Yuri's back, it must have been equally pleasant for them both - he thought he really had underestimated his friend. Then the reasonable part of his mind pointed out they would be too cold on the ice in case they wished to go on, before politely turning off.

When their lips parted - Yuri's fingers still in Otabek's hair, and Otabek's hand still on Yuri's back - Yuri whispered, "You're the most incredible man in the world."

And this time Otabek didn't deny it.


	8. Chapter 8

Yuri knew he would remember that June day for the rest of his life. Somehow, they didn't cause a scandal; they managed to refrain from committing any indecencies until arriving in Otabek's flat, which was the only sensible option. The training was completely out of place in this situation, just as Yuri had predicted (which he admitted with some triumph, but mostly with daze), but they didn't care about one cancelled session. On the way, Otabek didn't let go of his hand, not for a moment, and Yuri was grateful for that. Otabek's physical presence could always encourage him. Not that he feared what was to come; he simply felt bewildered and didn't trust himself to act sensibly... that was, of course, if one could behave reasonably in such circumstances. Nonetheless, there apparently were people capable of it...

Otabek's calm almost frightened him, and that was what he focused on during their short trip by metro. He still couldn't grasp how one could act so composedly... Himself, he'd felt like a pudding for the last two weeks. He'd been completely off balance, and to such the extent he couldn't really control his actions. His emotions had dominated him completely, almost turning him into someone else. Yuri Plisetsky, even if he would often swear and kick various items, would do so with full conscience and in order to show something, not hide... and this time had been the opposite. Otabek, on the other hand, had related to the situation in a completely different manner: above all, he had remained calm. Then he'd coolly analysed the problem, found the solution and presented it to Yuri. He hadn't let emotions govern him at any point; no, he had behaved like a mature man - and Yuri for the first time realised the difference between 'adulthood' and 'maturity'.

Then again, should he be that surprised? It was _Otabek Altin_ , whom Yuri had never seen thrown off balance. _Never._ He couldn't imagine Otabek start screaming, swearing, making scenes or acting in a violently. Even if all people on Earth went crazy or panicked for one reason or another, Yuri was sure as he was of his own name that Otabek would undoubtedly remain calm and clear-headed. And if he didn't, then it would mean end of the world. For most of the time, Yuri would feel comforted, knowing he could always rely on Otabek's composure. He had a feeling that no matter what idiocy he would suggest or what folly he would get into, Otabek would always be there to kindly yet firmly put him straight. He needed it, he needed such limits - or such frames he could stretch his personality on, that irrepressible and restless nature of his. Had it been not for Otabek, he probably would have lost touch with reality long ago, letting life sweep him along and never thinking it might do him harm.

Still, it didn't change the fact that now Otabek's calm and composure intimidated him - as did those decisions Otabek had made. Over and over, he re-enacted that scene – that talk - in the changing-room and, later, on the ice, and he still couldn't believe it had ended the way it had. He had presumed ten different conclusions, and all of them unfavourable for himself. Yes, he had underestimated Otabek, and it hadn't occurred to him to regard the situation from his point of view; he'd wanted to handle it himself and hadn't even thought Otabek might take part in it. Well, 'handling it himself' had meant that Otabek would never realise it... The thing was that even considering the option that Otabek did realise, Yuri had never - save for _those_ visions he'd perfectly considered as his dreams only - assumed that it might end like... like now.

It was a strange realisation that he'd been surprised by calm and composure that were the most obvious thing in the world.

Contrary to him, Otabek had related to the matter not from his own but from Yuri's point of view. He had tuned himself to Yuri, opened himself to Yuri and adjusted himself to Yuri. He'd treated the problem as something to be solved - and not in the way that might divide them, but that would make them closer. He'd answered Yuri's all questions, objections and concerns patiently and calmly, without fear or anger, just like he always did. How come someone as perfect could even exist? How come someone like that had happened to be in Yuri's life? How come he was Yuri's best friend? It was simply hard to believe it... but that warm hand that would squeeze his fingers tighter every now and then, helped him to believe - also when he started to doubt Otabek's intention and suspect Otabek did it only for his sake, not due to his own will.

However, when they found themselves in Otabek's flat and gave in to desire, it appeared that Otabek was capable of different behaviour than only calm and composed... which in these circumstances fitted better. In due time, Otabek presented the whole spectrum of emotions and reactions, starting from warm smiles when they looked each other in the eye, and impatient purrs when they kissed, and ending with distinct blush when he was naked and appropriated by Yuri's greedy hands and mouth, and charming moans when he came.

Yuri was certain that never before had he been so happy as the moment he realised he, of all people, could make Otabek act that way... could give Otabek such pleasure. It was as if his greatest wish had come true. In the morning, just a few hours ago, he would have never thought that Otabek might give him one kiss, to say nothing of going to bed with him - in other words, he hadn't considered Otabek as someone capable of having sex with another man. Yet now Otabek was lying in the rumpled bed sheets, panting after the orgasm induced by none other than Yuri Plisetsky, beyond all doubt a man.

Soon enough, Otabek opened his eyes and looked at him, a smile lightening his flushed face. From that gaze, Yuri could tell he was content, satisfied and fulfilled, and he finally discard the fear that all that was only about his own desire and pleasure. He didn't manage to think any more, for Otabek sat up and reached for his face, diving into another kiss... and then took care of him just like Yuri always - for last two weeks - had imagined him to. In a flash of inspiration, Yuri realised that regardless of that new turn in their relationship Otabek was still his friend, and it meant mutuality in all they did. It didn't took long before he came himself under Otabek's willing and creative hands.

For two guys without any experience with their own sex, he thought they had managed extremely well. Maybe it was exactly because it was their first time... or maybe what mattered was the urge to make the other one happy and pleased. Imagination was enough, and neither of them lacked it.

After everything, Yuri was glad he'd finally managed to break himself free from that hysteria he'd been in for the last two weeks. Thanks to Otabek and with Otabek he was back to being a man, and he planned to stay this way. It didn't stop him from feeling shamelessly good when lying in Otabek's arms and wanting to never leave. And maybe he did happen to burst into tears at some point when he could no longer contain that feeling of happiness, raging inside him like a hurricane and leaving no part unaffected.

"I acted terribly," he murmured with his cheek on Otabek's chest. "Like a total brat... Like an infatuated schoolgirl. I bet it was hard to look. That blushing, averting eyes and other disgusting things... To say nothing of constant running away..."

"It wasn't that bad," Otabek replied with his nose in Yuri's hair. "In a way, you were really cute," he added with a smile, and Yuri suppressed a snort. Then, however, Otabek said in a more serious voice, "It must have been hard for you."

"I'm sorry," Yuri replied automatically.

"What?" Otabek raised his head to look at him. "I think you've skipped some three lines here...?"

Yuri smiled. True. "I thought: Otabek noticed. He worried about me. I have to apologise," he described his thought process from a second ago.

He still felt relieved by the knowledge he no longer needed to hide anything from his best friend. He could again speak what he thought and didn't need to worry he might destroy something... And maybe that was why the next moment he said, "You don't regret?"

"I said-"

"I know what you said. But it was that time, earlier... before we did this."

"I suppose you won't be happy with the answer that I don't use to regret my actions?"

Yuri said nothing.

"No, I don't regret," Otabek assured him. "It was... good. And I liked it. Thank you."

"Then... you think it won't ruin anything between us?"

"Ruin? I'd say it will rather enrich... our friendship."

"How come you can say such things?" Yuri muttered, red as a beetroot.

"Maybe because I want be that 'older and wiser' who is always right, for once," Otabek replied with a shameless lack of self-criticism, but irony was to be heard in his words anyway.

Yuri suppressed his smile.

"In any case, instead of thinking that much you should have told me," Otabek added.

Yuri turned his head up and looked at him, frowning. "That was extremely stupid, Mr. Older-and-Wiser," he said before lying down again. "Besides... I understood that you'd needed some time to... think it over," he went on, his voice lower now, for he still felt bemused by the result of that 'thinking'. "I _had_ to keep it a secret and..."

He paused, suddenly remembering his theme for the next season, and wondered what to do with it. He really liked the idea and didn't feel like giving it up, especially when Lilia had created such a splendid choreography for him. He still wanted everyone to rack their brains over his secret, but...

"Otabek...?"

"Mhm?"

"Would you... like to do it... again?" he asked, still blushing.

"Now?"

Yuri snorted with laughter. "No! In general... in the future. Later," he qualified, still laughing.

"Yes," Otabek answered concisely.

"Then, uhm, we'll be... like..." Here was where Yuri's confidence ended, especially that he was under the impression he was doing it in the wrong order.

"Boyfriends? Partners?" Otabek offered, and Yuri felt almost angry with the calmness in his voice again.

"Mhm," he muttered in reply.

"Would you like us to?"

Yuri gulped. "I would," he whispered, "but..."

"Not in public?" Otabek guessed again.

"That sounds terrible."

"What? You and me in public?" Otabek asked, amused.

"No! It sounds terrible that I don't want in public..."

"I'd say it's pretty normal."

Yuri rolled on his belly, resting his arms on Otabek's chest, and looked him in the eye.

"I could walk, holding hands with you. I could kiss you in front of everyone. I could even skate with you at a fucking exhibition," he said firmly, although his face was burning. "Otabek Altin, I could have a perfectly normal... romance with you. Don't you ever think I might have anything against it. Don't you ever doubt I could tell the whole world we are together," he added in a warning tone, although he wasn't sure where that courage came from.

"Then, what's the problem?"

"I just want it to stay between us. For some time, at least. Let it be our... secret. Our own thing," he said, but as he spoke he realised he was a dishonest and selfish git. "No, sorry, it wasn't fair..."

Otabek calmly looked at him with his dark eyes that could always see through him. "Just tell me what it is about," he suggested gently.

So Yuri told him. About his theme for the next season. About his wish to surprise everyone. About the perverse flirt with the skating world he wanted to have. Otabek heard him out and finally stated he saw no problem. In the end, they decided they wouldn't inform anyone about the change that happened in their relationship and would leave all direct questions without any comment. They also agreed that they would try to behave in public like before; it shouldn't be that hard, since they'd always spent a lot of time together, with their relation being accentuated with explicit affection. They suspected that sooner or later people would start realise the truth anyway - but as long as neither of them confirmed it, it would be just a conjecture, which was fine for Yuri.

Aloud, he apologised for his selfishness that made him adjust his private life to his sports career. Inside, he knew he'd rather be considered an egoist than admit his fears. The truth was he was scared it would end soon. He needed time to believe it wouldn't be just a short episode that would leave him heartbroken. If it lasted as long as the next season, then maybe he would have more courage. And it could also be that in the meantime the secret would tire him as much that he would decide to reveal it.

Otabek probably realised it anyway. After a while, when they felt like doing it again, made each other come and then lay satisfied in an embrace, Otabek repeated, "You should have told me. We lost two weeks..."

Yuri smiled, hearing contentment in his voice that once more told him Otabek had really liked it.

Then, however, Otabek added in a soft voice, but happily, "But, well, it's just two weeks... and we have the whole life..."

Yuri got up abruptly - only to fall down on him and kiss him passionately. He was completely defenceless before such declarations... but, he decided with some timid hope, they undoubtedly provided a good basis... for at least next ten years.

* * *

It required several months - they had been living together for a while and had performed as a pair in the world championships exhibition, making their relationship an official thing - for Yuri to be able to say 'I love you'. Sex was an incomparably easier thing that love, and only sharing his daily life with Otabek helped him to confess his feelings. Not that it didn't happen amongst blushing, averting his eyes and whispers. Actually, he realised he'd always done things in the wrong order.

Otabek simply answered, "I know."

And Yuri understood that he'd loved Otabek for much, much longer he'd thought - probably from the very start of their friendship. Of course, that time his love hadn't been romantic, to say nothing of erotic, yet there had been definitely something akin to love in his great admiration for Otabek, in that terrible happiness resulting from sharing time with him, as well as in that desire to spent his life with him. It could be that turning eighteen had awakened that part of him that had remained dormant until then - or simply had bloomed, for the right time had come - which had forced him to gave their relation a new view.

He told Otabek about it, and Otabek agreed it could be the case. Then he leaned to his ear and added, "It was the same with me."

And Yuri accepted it as one of the most essential truths of the universe... leaving it for another day and greater dose of courage to say that Otabek was his very universe. Still, he believed with all himself that day would come. Breathing perfect happiness contributed to that faith.


End file.
